Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix
by NINJA-RENKA
Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG
1. Crossing Paths

**Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix**

**Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations**

**Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I'm basing a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie ****_Fools Rush In _****starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've decided to adjust into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.**

**This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.**

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**CHAPTER ONE - Crossing Paths**

* * *

Fenrir Greyback is the werewolf of all werewolves, there are no ifs, ands, or buts about it. The fearsome man has been acknowledged as such throughout the entire magical world and for the majority of his life.

After the fall of Voldemort, the werewolf immediately went to work making sure his canine brethren were protected. His position as Werewolf Lord may have been self appointed, however it is one he takes with utmost seriousness. The savagery that Fenrir had always been known for, now had an express purpose—protecting his packs. His method of turning children may have been questionable, but it achieved the man's goal and Europe's werewolf population has never been higher. An affliction has been properly classified into a group of people that could no longer be ignored, no matter how vehemently the Ministry fought to do so. But, instead of sicing his packs on the wizards of England, Fenrir surprised them all. He offered their assistance in the post-war Wizarding World. With his acumen for striking deals(A skill he may have picked up form the former Dark Lord, himself), Fenrir Greyback avoided Askaban and execution while simultaneously rewriting the laws regarding the rights of werewolves.

And at the moment, the lycan is on his way to meet with the Minister of Magic, Kingsley Shacklebolt, himself.

As he walks through the halls of the Ministry, Fenrir's imposing figure easily clears his way. The worn leather coat he wears stretches across his broad chest, the heavy fabric swaying behind him with each stride. Piercing eyes size up the witches and wizards that quicken their pace as quickly as possible in the opposite direction. A smirk appears on Fenrir's face at the discomfort his presence instills in them. Yet, despite the fleeting entertainment of scaring Ministry employees, the man quickens his steps—his inner wolf hating the oppressive building. Navigating the world of wizarding politics at times is as deadly as the dense forests Fenrir's packs call home, even with the changes being made to Pureblood policies. The bureaucracy and manipulations emanating throughout the building always sets Fenrir's instincts on edge. With a grumble to himself, the werewolf continues his journey as thick boots create a steady beat as he continues through the torch-lit marble corridors.

Upon reaching his desired location, he walks right by the sputtering receptionist. The witch's pleading with the infamous werewolf to let her warn the Minister of his arrival falls onto deaf ears as Fenrir marches right into the office of the Minister of Magic.

"Hullo, Minister."

At the greeting, the man looks up from his paperwork. His full lips are set in a firm line as he looks over the werewolf.

"Fenrir Greyback, to what do I owe the pleasure?" greets Kingsley, his deep eyes taking in the creature before him.

"Thought you like to know that those upstarts in the Black Forest you were worryin' about are no longer a problem."

"Already? You only left a few days ago. It took my best Aurors a month just to find their location."

Rolling his eyes at the honest surprise written on the man's dark face, Fenrir makes himself comfortable in the chair before the Minister's desk. The lycanthrope not caring one bit that the furniture was hand-carved by elves before resting his feet on it.

"You wanted them gone, right? When will you wizards learn not to send an Auror to do a werewolf's job? That was always Voldemort's problem. You lot depend too much on your sticks which do you shite much good in the depths of a dark forest. That's _our_ domain," states Fenrir, his words turning into a growl. "My betas are taking them to Askaban as we speak."

"Excellent. If the public wouldn't have my head, I'd start recruiting my aurors from your packs."

"Get this straight, we _aren't_ your errand boys. Those bastards were havin' their little _meeting_ on pack territory. You're lucky there's enough left of 'em to take to Askaban."

The Minister offers a non-committed 'hmm' in acknowledgement of these words.

As part of the treaty between the werewolves and the Ministry, the lycanthropes help to round up the last remnants of Death Eaters and their supporters. In reality, that is the hardest job after the war. And it is a job well suited for werewolves as many of Voldemort's supporters fled into the dense forests or the old ruins of ancestral wizarding homes.

"That may be, Fenrir. However, it is in our best interest to help each other, is it not?" The Minister counters. "In any case, I do have some good news for you today. I have it on good authority that we at the Ministry have one last job for you to do and then you and your pack will be left to their own devices. Keeping in mind that you all adhere to the terms of the treaty, of course."

Between the two men, the air sizzles with tension. Fenrir is annoyed to be reminded of the freedom that the Ministry often dangles before him and his pack. Kingsley however, is loathe to admit that the werewolves are actually a huge asset to his Aurors. He hadn't been joking in his earlier remarks, it is an idea he makes note of to run by the young Head of the Auror department once he returns from his vacation.

"I'm listenin', Kingsley."

Interrupting him from his musings, Kingsley leans forward and rests his folded hands on the desk. He meets Fenrir's intense stare with an even gaze.

"The Forbidden Forest."

"Are you serious?" begins the larger man, a dark smirk on the wolf's face. "The Ministry really wants me and my pack around your precious students at Hogwarts?"

"The Forbidden Forest is a dangerous forest. Too much of it is unmapped and uncharted. Many parents would feel much better about sending their children away to Hogwarts if we had a better idea of the terrain as well as its residents."

"I was under the impression that the Forbidden Forest was supposed to be dangerous. Isn't that's why you lot all call it 'Forbidden', _Minister_?"

Catching the sarcasm, Kingsley's expression quickly becomes one lacking amusement.

"Well, if you and your pack can take away a bit of that mystery, it would ease a lot of uncertainty and questions about the school's security. The forest was too much of a liability during the war."

The werewolf takes in the information as he reaches up to scratch the stubble on his chin. After a moment of silence between the two, Fenrir raises an eyebrow.

"That all?"

"The Ministry wants it done before the next school term, so you have almost a year. We'll be sending a team of Aurors with you to map out your findings."

"Don't need 'em."

"Still, they will be accompanying you, anyway."

Rolling his eyes, Fenrir crosses his arms.

"Then make sure you send ones that can keep up. I ain't no babysitter."

"You'll also have use of one of the Ministry homes in Hogsmeade," continues Kinglsey, seemingly ignoring the werewolf's comments. His wand and attention busy transforming a iron key into a portkey. "This will take you to your temporary residence. My patronus will be keeping tabs on you and you may also use it to convey updates on your progress."

With a grumble, Fenrir stands up and takes the offered portkey before quickly stashing it in the folds of his coat. The lycanthrope turns on his heel and heads towards the door. But before he leaves, he stops and turns back around.

"The Forbidden Forest is a place that won't welcome intruders. Make sure that your Aurors aren't lackin' in their manners, they'll want to make a good first impression."

With that message and a cruel laugh, the werewolf leaves the office and heads straight for the Floo Network that brought him there in the first place.

Fenrir Greyback's next stop? Hopefully, a place low on wizards and, if possible, stocked with a good brew or two.

* * *

**~A few hours later~**

* * *

Downtown London is alive with couples of all types on dates and groups of friends filling local eateries and taverns. In a small pub known for it's locally-brewed ales, Harry Potter(Savior of the Wizarding World and the youngest Head Auror for the Ministry of Magic) is on the graffiti-ridden payphone in back. The dark-haired wizard doing his best to hear the person on the other end of the conversation over the din of the packed tavern.

"I know Hermione, but I'm not ready to tell Ron, quite yet. Ginny and I just broke up and we'll both tell him when we're ready . . . Look, I'll drop by the house later and we can have a long talk about it. . . . No, not tomorrow, I have to see Minister Kingsley. I really have to go now. . . Alright. Bye."

Hanging up the payphone, Harry returns over to the line waiting for the bathroom. As always, it is impossibly long and unfortunately Harry _really_ has to go to the bathroom. Seeing a gap near the front of the line, the wizard smiles in relief. Green eyes don't make the connection that the reason for this particular gap is the intimidating man occupying the bulk of it. The stranger's blue eyes are more focused on staring into space than any particular subject in the rowdy tavern. Taking advantage of his distracted gaze, Harry attempts to sneak into the line. It isn't something he would normally do, but the young wizard had a pint before the phone call he just made and it apparenly traveled right through him. He walks past the stranger as unassuming as he can muster and slips into the empty space right in front of the tall man. Once situated, Harry releases the breath he had been holding.

"Cutting in line, are we?"

Wincing at being caught, the wizard arranges his features as innocently as possible before turning around.

"Uh, no. You see, I was here first actually. I just had to use the telephone over there. But, um, before I could end my call the line moved, you see."

For a moment, the man regards the youth before him with an amused grin. Blue eyes take their time to appraise the lean body before him. Their owner seems to have no issue with how uncomfortable his appreciating gaze makes the green-eyed wizard.

"I'd think I'd remember waiting behind you."

The deep timbre of the voice that leaves the man's mouth does things to Harry that no voice should be able to do. Widened viridian eyes focus instead on the vaguely-familiar features of the man's face. Intense eyes stand out from the stranger's ruggedly-handsome visage while traces of old scars stand out on the tan skin. Thick, grey-streaked hair is pulled back into a short ponytail, though the urge to run his fingers through it crosses the wizard's mind. The large body practically blocks the rest of the pub from Harry's view, green eyes almost forced to rove over the muscle visible even beneath the man's clothing.

"Oy! Back of the line, Scrawny! We've all been waitin' here to use the loo!"

Jolted from their thoughts, both Harry and the stranger turn to the blonde man that had shouted at them. The wizard opens his mouth to apologize, but is surprised when he is interrupted.

"He's with me. Got a problem, with that?"

The question isn't asked loudly, however the subtle, yet inarguable dominance in the stranger's voice shuts the blonde up immediately.

"Thanks, you didn't have to do that," Harry offers with an amused smile.

"I wanted to. After all, it's not everyday I get to enjoy the company of _the_ Harry James Potter. I wasn't going to let some rude muggle interrupt us."

At his full name, Harry's attention snaps immediately right back to the man's eyes. The high-level Auror a bit happy that the man before him is no muggle, not that he is willing to wonder why that is.

"Who are you?"

"I'm hurt, boy. We've met before. You'd think someone would remember meeting a werewolf."

The last bit is whispered into Harry ear, and he can't tell if the resulting shiver is from the information or the man's sudden proximity. Harry had only ever been acquainted with two werewolves in his life. The first being the late Remus Lupin, one of his father's best friends and father to his adorable god-son, Teddy Lupin. Pushing the emotions that stirs aside, Harry focuses his attention on the notorious werewolf in front of him now.

"Fenrir Greyback?"

"Aye, that's my name."

Harry is unsure how to react. Whatever twinges of interest he felt are pushed away as his mind bombards him all he knows about Fenrir Greyback. He had read some time ago in the Daily Prophet that the werewolf was working for the Ministry. The young wizard had even assigned some Aurors to his detail once or twice. However, meeting the dangerous man in the middle of a muggle pub in downtown London is beyond surreal. Part of him is defensive as Fenrir had turned Remus as a child and permanently scarred Bill Weasley, not to mention the countless others he had infected with lycanthropy. The werewolf had even been working for Voldemort, though he was never branded with the Dark Mark. Taking a look around the pub filled with vulnerable muggles, Harry narrows his eyes as he firms his voice.

"If you even think of turning anyone, I'll-"

"Calm down, pup and put the wand away," interrupts Fenrir, instantly noticing the wizard's fingers move towards his pocket. "Neither of us are going to do anythin' surrounded by all these muggles, now are we? Besides, I'm here on official Ministry business. I've got no interest turnin' any one, any more."

Realizing that it would do neither of them good to start any trouble, Harry relaxes a bit. He straightens himself to his full height, not that it would do any good compared to the mountain of a man known as Fenrir Greyback.

"Well then what exactly are you doing here? Last time I checked, the Ministry doesn't conduct business in pubs."

"I just came to get a drink. Can't stand that 'Butterbeer' you all like to drink. Muggles could teach you wizards how to brew a proper dark ale."

At the unexpected reply, Harry is surprised to find himself laughing. The sound makes a warm grin appear on the werewolf's face.

"Hey, lovebirds, the line's movin!"

Throwing the blonde near the end of the line another withering look, Fenrir turns his attention back to the wizard.

"After you," offers the elder, his hand pushing the Savior forward.

Following the man's nudge, Harry hurries into the bathroom, eager to hide his reddening face at the comment. However, the wizard pauses for a moment before disappearing into the bathroom.

"Um, thanks again for letting me skip in line. When I come back out, I'll treat you to a pint."

"I'll hold you to it."

A few drinks later, Fenrir and Harry find themselves sitting across from each other at a table in the pub. They are in an isolated corner so that their words won't be heard over the sounds of clinking glasses and multiple conversations around the room. The two make an odd pair, yet the alcohol has relaxed them both enough to enjoy each other's company.

"This is so weird," mentons Harry after a swallow of rich ale.

"What is?"

"You and I, Harry Potter and Fenrir Greyback, having a chat over a pint. A photo of us right now would probably make the front page of the _Daily Prophet_."

"You care too much about what others think."

The statement causes a tight laugh to leave Harry's throat.

"Easy for you to say, Fenrir. I'm the 'Savior of the Wizarding World'. Everything I do becomes every wizard and witch's business."

"Doesn't have to be that way. You're young, still got plenty of time to make your own name for yourself if you like. Besides, soon enough, they'll find somethin' else to talk about. You gotta remember that now that Voldemort's gone, the news ain't as _interestin'_ as it used to be."

Considering the man's point for a moment, Harry finds himself smirking. A moment passes by as both men take a sip of their beers, the cold liquid flowing pleasantly down their throats. Harry flicks out his tongue to clear off the remnants of thick foam that has lingered on his lips.

"What about you?" asks the wizard, oblivious that he managed to transfix the powerful werewolf with a mere gesture.

"What about me?"

"You're Fenrir Greyback. That's a name with it's own problems, right?"

Recovering a bit, Fenrir leans forward in his seat. His features set as they regard the wizard before answering the rather-loaded question.

"I'm not ashamed of the choices I've made, if that's what you're askin'. Bein' a werewolf isn't an easy life. Our kind have been hunted by both muggles and wizards alike and we've been treated like pests rather than respected for what we are, like any other magical creature. I refused to live in fear so I put fear in those that would hunt me for their own self-satisfyin' needs or simply to hang my pelt on their walls. I made it so that we werewolves could no longer be ignored. At the end of the day, I'm no wizard and I'm no muggle, so I don't see much sense tryin' to live up to either of their standards. I live my life the way I choose."

As Harry listens to the man, an odd understanding resonates through him. He can't condone the werewolf's past actions, yet it has an odd logic to it. The Boy Who Lived knows all too well what living in fear is like, then again being the target for the darkest wizard of all time does change one's perspective. Remembering the pain and persecution that Remus encountered in his own life for something that wasn't even his fault causes an incongruous sense of respect to tinge Harry's opinion of the infamous werewolf.

"I can respect that I guess."

"You, on the other hand," begins Fenrir as he looks over the wizard before him. "Are letting other people define you. In my experience, that never ends well."

At the man's blunt words, Harry eyes narrow indignantly.

"I don't _let_ anyone define me. I just know it's useless trying to change whatever "perfect" image of me that everyone else seems to already have on a proverbial pedestal. So, I just don't bother wasting my time. It's not my fault that I don't match their idea of who _Harry Potter _is supposed to be. Now that the world is finally and completely Voldemort-free, I'm finally going to live my life, my way."

"Now that, Harry Potter, I can respect."

As Fenrir takes a final swig to empty his glass, Harry uses the opportunity to once again study the large before him. His eyes appreciate the man's raw strength, knowing that if he choose to, Fenrir could demolish the table they are now sharing with ease. For some reason, the aura of power emanating from the Alpha werewolf is both appealing and strangely comforting.

"Like what you see, boy?"

At the teasing tone directed at him, Harry scoffs. The wizard finishing the last of his own ale with an amused smile.

"You wish."

"Alright boys, the pub is about to close," interrupts the bar maid as she collects their now empty glasses. Without looking at the bill, Fenrir hands her some bills to cover their tab.

"Keep the change."

"Thank you, sir," the woman replies with a smile. "Have a nice night, gents."

"I thought I was supposed to treat you?" asks Harry as the waitress walks away.

"You bought the first round, it's only fair I buy the last ones."

Standing up to put on his jacket, Harry's eyes widen as they realize that it is now well past midnight. His surprise that he has been civilly conversing with the werewolf for almost three hours is overshadowed as the time sinks in.

"Oh, bollocks. I was supposed to catch the Underground. It's going to take an hour to walk back home," comments Harry as he and Fenrir walk out of the closing pub together.

"Just apparate."

"I barely like doing it when I'm sober, I'm not going to risk it when I've had a few. Knowing my luck, I'd end up splinching myself."

Adjusting his own coat, a thought crosses the werewolf's mind as the weight of Minister Shacklebolt's parting gift shifts in his pocket.

"Then come with me, I have a house on the Ministry's tab with plenty of room. The Minister himself gave me a direct portkey to it."

The streets aren't as filled as they were earlier, however Harry and Fenrir walk close to each other as the make their way along the London street.

"Thanks, but I don't think that's a good idea, Fenrir. Sharing a pint is one thing, sharing a room is quite another."

"Afraid of the big, bad werewolf?"

Harry once again finds himself smirking at the werewolf's dry humor as he shakes his head.

"Not really, I know how to transfigure wood into metals. Specifically silver, if the situation calls for it. Besides, I can take care of myself."

"Oh, I know. But what kind of gentleman would I be if I left 'The Boy Who Lived' up to his own devices? After all, who knows what trouble your pretty face would get into, eh?"

Weighing his options, Harry considers Fenrir's offer. After all, its not the full moon so it's not like the lycanthrope can turn him, even if he does bite him for whatever reason. And oddly enough, the wizard doesn't feel threatened by the werewolf. The man before him bears little resemblance to the beast of a man he met the night Dumbledore died. Not that the wildness isn't still there. After all, Fenrir Greyback is a man that exudes danger, no matter how good he looks at the moment.

Turning to face Fenrir directly, Harry's emerald eyes lock with intense blue ones.

"If I go with you tonight, no funny business, alright?"

Raising an eyebrow, Fenrir steps closer to Harry, having no issue invading the wizard's personal space. The werewolf feeling an odd, yet deeply-rooted need to establish his dominance over the wizard.

"What exactly is it that you think I'll do, pup?"

Harry is frozen in place by the intensity of Fenrir's stare. The last time he had felt so immobilized by a stare alone, he had been fearing for his life. However, this feeling is far from fear. In fact, Harry finds himself inexplicably drawn in by the unwavering gaze as his body subconsciously leans into the larger one.

"Fenrir, what's going on here?" whispers Harry, his viridian eyes darkening as they return the werewolf's stare.

Raising a hand to cup the wizard's soft cheek, his thumb lazily traces the outline of Harry's parted lips. A shiver travel through the wizard's body as Fenrir releases a low, possessive growl.

"Let's get out of here."

" . . . Okay."

Pulling the wizard into a dark alley, Fenrir tugs the thin body to his own before activating the portkey. Seconds later, after a whirl of magic, Harry and Fenrir are standing in a simple cottage on the outskirts of Hogsmeade. The simple yet comfortable décor of the house goes completely ignored as the two simply stare at each other. Neither wizard nor werewolf are able to distance themselves from the other. Perhaps driven by his seemingly-innate need to tempt Fate, Harry is the one that leans in first to close the gap.

The instant his lips make contact with Fenrir's, the young wizard finds himself engulfed by the strength and power that he had been admiring for the last three hours or so. An experimental grazing of lips quickly evolves into an intense exploration of each other's mouths. Overwhelming passion fuels them both as each man take their turn switching control. Tilting his head a bit to deepen their kiss, Harry moans lightly as low growls rumble in Fenrir's throat.

Without an exchange of words, Harry is effortlessly lifted up from the ground. His lean legs instinctually wrap around the werewolf's waist as the angle of their kiss changes. And despite the intense urgency of their current interactions, both men take their time savoring the kiss. The two can't seem to get enough as their mouths move in tandem against each other. With a few playful nips, Fenrir holds the lithe body tightly to him as he walks them both over to his bed.

The two continue kissing passionately while their clothes are carelessly ripped off their bodies and tossed out of sight and out of mind. Tanned, battle-scarred skin finally meets soft, pale flesh as the werewolf and wizard topple into the surprisingly-comfortable bed on the far side of the one-room cottage. It is quite some time before Harry pulls back, rather reluctantly, to catch his breath. But as he lies there panting on the bed of Fenrir Greyback, the influx of oxygen manages to clear his mind of the thick fog of lust, even with the man's distracting caresses of his body.

"Wait, mmm, wait, Fenrir, this is a bad idea-"

"You were the one that kissed me first, Potter," growls out the wolf as he starts kissing along the curve of Harry throat. A whimper escapes the young wizard's lips as Fenrir's sharp canines graze his skin. "Now you have to deal with the consequences."

"Y-yeah, I know that. But kissing and _this_ are two different things. I don't do things like this, especially with_-ah!-_other men," Harry's ramblings are temporarily cut off as Fenrir discovers a sensitive spot on the wizard's neck. "Besides I just broke up with-"

"I really don't give a shite about your past lovers right now," states Fenrir bluntly. The large man is situated between Harry's spread-out thighs, his thick hair disheveled from the wizard's exploring fingers. "This is your call, pup, but if you don't stop me now, I can't guarantee I'll be able to stop later."

Harry stares up at the wild man above him as he turns over Fenrir's words in his mind. The lust-darkened eyes of the werewolf are focused on him, making his breath fall short with their unwavering intensity. Hands that have done Merlin-knows what, tortuously map out his body with a reverence that alights every nerve within Harry. Despite the glaringly-obvious reasons why he shouldn't continue this, it doesn't take long for the young wizard to come to a decision.

With his mind set, Harry reaches up and wraps his arms around Fenrir's thick neck to pull him back down. With a gentle tug, the larger body is once again settled on top of the wizard's lean one. The heat emanating from the man is intoxicating enough, but combined with the pure masculinity pouring off the aroused werewolf it is almost hallucinogenic. Viridian eyes close in pleasure as a whisper escapes Harry's lips.

". . . I don't want you to stop."

And with those words, the dark-haired wizard is overwhelmed by another smoldering kiss.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**

* * *

**So, let me know what you think! I have the entire story mapped out, so I predict updates once a week(If it goes longer than that, I'll make it up to you all).**

**Until next time, **

**Later Days!**

**RENKA**


	2. Surprises

**Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix**

**Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations**

**Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I'm basing a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie ****_Fools Rush In _****starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've decided to adjust into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.**

**This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.**

**THANK YOU to everyone that has reviewed, faved, or simply just read this story. Your comments are really appreciated and I love reading them.**

**Now, since I was a bit late with this chapter, I decided to use the extra time to crank out the next chapter as well. So, you all get two chapters this week. YAY!**

**Now, on with the fic.**

* * *

**CHAPTER TWO - Surprises**

* * *

As the sun peeks through the windows of the simple cottage he is temporarily inhabiting, Fenrir grumbles in annoyance. The village of Hogsmeade is always covered in snow, yet the bright orb still manages to be its same irritating self. Rolling over in an attempt to escape the golden rays, the werewolf groans once again. This time in frustration as the intoxicating scent of a particular young wizard teases his senses.

It has been almost two months since the night that Harry Potter graced his bed. Yet no matter how many times they are cleaned, his bedding refuses to completely let go of the boy's scent.

As frustrating as it is at certain moments, Fenrir can never quite find it within himself to complain about it. The lingering remnant of the green-eyed wizard is what sends the wolf off to sleep and the first thing that greets him when he wakes every morning. And before he knows it, the scent(the only souvenir that the werewolf has of their passionate night together) becomes comforting as well as arousing.

Walking into that muggle pub, Fenrir had the sole intention of getting a good drink before heading out to do the Ministry's dirty work. He honestly had no thoughts towards procuring any other form of entertainment. So, when "The Boy Who Lived" himself tried to sneak in line, it had been a genuine and rather pleasant surprise.

The werewolf barely recognized the young man as the teenager that had stood against and defeated Voldemort. In the years that had passed, lean muscle had defined the scrawny boy into a rather attractive man. Though the unruly dark hair had tamed a bit, large expressive green eyes still stared back through the wizard's trademark glasses. The iconic lightning bolt scar was there, although it had faded ever so slightly. It no longer was such a stark contrast from the pale skin that covered the rest of Harry's body.

And speaking of that body. . .

Fenrir has to restrain an audible growl every time he thinks of it. Then again, it was quite the surprise to learn that the Savior of the Wizarding World lost all of his rather charming shyness in the bedroom. Not that Fenrir had any problem with it, as it had been far to long since he's been with such an enthusiastic lover.

Waking up the following morning, the werewolf wasn't too surprised to find himself alone. Though it would have been nice to wake up from a night of phenomenal sex with a sleep-tousled Harry Potter curled up next to him. He might have been able to work in another round or two . . .

Shaking his head of all thoughts connected to the attractive young wizard, Fenrir begrudgingly makes his way out of his bed and into his clothes. After all, he has a job to do, and it won't get done any faster fantasizing about Harry Potter.

An hour(and a large breakfast) later, the Alpha werewolf finds himself in the depths of the Forbidden Forest. His attention focusing on his current situation in the ominous woods that lie just beyond the grounds of the rebuilt Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Flanking him are his two betas Derrick and Scarlett, and trailing behind them are the three Aurors sent by Kingsley that Fenrir didn't bother to learn the names of. The dark forest is oddly silent as the odd team makes their way through the dense foliage. Silence greets them as the group continues into its depths.

Suddenly a long howl is heard through the trees startling the wizards, the three werewolves chuckle as the Aurors look around nervously.

"Fenrir, that's Espen," informs Scarlett. The red-headed werewolf briefly scents the air before she continues. "His group is finished with their section and are headed back to regroup."

"Good, we should be able to finish the east quadrant of the forest today. It's mostly centaur territory, should be easy for the wizards to keep up."

Derrick and Scarlett chuckle at their Alpha's comment as one of the Aurors approaches them.

"Mr. Greyback, sir?" begins one of the Aurors, a young witch with straight black hair. "Would you be able to take us into the centaur settlement? Minister Shacklebolt wishes us to speak with them before we continue any further into their territory."

Looking at the girl, Fenrir scratches his chin in thought. His stare purposefully unnerves the witch before he replies.

"Permission, eh? They already know we're here, what's the use of asking permission now?"

"What do you mean?" the witch asks as a sense of dread begins to form on her soft features.

"First rule of the Forbidden Forest, you don't just go for a stroll through these woods, girl. It'll get you killed. Second, make nice with the inhabitants if you want to leave here alive. Firenze and his kind have given us the rest of the day to finish our business here. Even so, you all best finish your work before sunset. That's when the real dangers of this forest like to come out."

At the warning, the Auror returns to her comrades. The three wizards then start laying out an extensive map before using their wands and a series of spells to fill in the blank areas. Looking on as they work, the werewolves keep their senses sharp. The lycans know that the eerie silence surrounding them means that the group is being watched.

The setting sun casts a warm orange glow on the snow-covered grounds of Hogmeade. As Fenrir walks out of the wizard village, his gait is even—the werewolf in no rush to return to his once-again empty bed. His pack and the Aurors were left to their own devices at the Three Broomsticks, celebrating the fact that due to their progress, they had earned a few days off.

Cold winds whip around Fenrir's large form as his breath fogs in front of him. Upon approaching his isolated cottage, he is shocked by the scent that gently wafts towards him. There is no mistaking the intoxicating scent that continues to tease the werewolf every time he goes to sleep.

With a feral grin, he is pleased to see Harry Potter waiting for him on his doorstep. The young wizard dressed in a thick coat and iconic gold and ruby-striped scarf is gazing aimlessly into the snow-covered woods surrounding the cottage. His pale hands are shoved into his pockets to stave off the chill.

"Didn't anyone ever tell you to wear gloves in the cold? You wizards aren't built for this type of weather."

At the teasing words, Harry is startled out of his thoughts. Green eyes shift over to Fenrir nervously as the Head Auror runs his long fingers through his dark hair.

"Fenrir, I err . . . Hi."

The bespectacled wizard seems to cringe at his own lame-sounding words. Fortunately, he is not given long to dwell on it.

"This is a surprise. Didn't think I'd be seeing you so soon," starts the werewolf, his gaze trained on the younger man.

"Yeah, about that. I'm sorry I left without a word, last time. That was rude. Umm, can we talk?"

"Aren't we doing that now?"

"I mean inside. In _private_."

Fenrir eyes fully take in the wizard before him as he scents the air around them. A hint of slight fear reaches the werewolf's nose, making him soften his features. Without a word, the larger man walks towards Harry and he reaches past him to open the door. A whiff of arousal makes the man pause for a bit, effectively trapping the wizard between his thick arms. For a few seconds, the green-eyed auror is caged by the wolf before he turns the doorknob. A knowing grin crosses Fenrir's strong features at the light blush that grows on his guest's face.

"Sure, pup. Come on in."

At the invitation, the wizard turns and enters the home with the werewolf right behind him. Once inside, Fenrir closes the door with a soft click. The two men stand before each other, a weighted silence between them. In that time, Harry looks at Fenrir, then at his hands and then back up at the werewolf. His teeth absently worry his bottom lip, turning the tempting flesh a darker shade of pink. Fenrir shakes his head of the rather distracting thoughts the nervous habit inspires as he moves to take a seat on the nearby couch.

"So, did you come here for a social visit or are you looking for some _other way _to spend the evening?"

The double-meaning behind the comment seems to go unnoticed by Harry. More likely, the auror is choosing not to acknowledge it as he attempts to get his own words in order.

"Fenrir, there's something I really need you to tell you . . . Merlin, this is harder to say than I thought it would be."

Harry's eyes lock with the werewolf's unexpectedly-patient ones as he takes a deep breath. Then, without any other preamble, "The Boy Who Lived" says the one thing furthest from Fenrir Greyback's list of conversation starters.

"I'm pregnant."

Staring at the man, Harry waits for Fenrir's reaction. The man blinks slowly before he speaks.

"You're _pregnant_? As in, you've got a baby growin' inside of you?"

Harry nods at the question as he silently watches the werewolf process the information. The wizard takes a few, hesitant steps closer to the confused man. In any other situation, the wide-eyed expression on the alpha werewolf's face would be quite comical, but at the moment it has Harry sincerely worried.

"Fenrir? Are you alright?"

At Harry's voice, the man looks up. Fenrir's brow furrows as he studies the body before him.

"You're male, though. I would know if you weren't, had a pretty good look down there the last time. Unless somethin' chang— "

"Nothing changed down there!" Harry exclaims, crossing his arms over his chest.

"I don't get it then," trails off Fenrir as his thoughts run about in his mind. "Are you _really_ pregnant?"

The question is not an accusatory one, in fact it is asked in an odd tone of wonder. Piercing blue eyes are glued to the auror's flat, sweater-covered abdomen as if he can actually see the growing child in Harry's body.

"Yeah, I am, apparently," begins Harry as he takes a seat on the edge of the coffee table in front of the large man. "Male pregnancies are really rare for wizards, but they can happen. Something about synchronized magical cores—Look, Hermione can explain it loads better than I can. I came here because I wanted to let you know in person that I am pregnant, it's yours, and I'm keeping this baby."

Fenrir stares at the determined expression on the young wizard's face. In the werewolf's opinion, it is far too mature of an expression for such a young pup. Pushing aside the million and one questions that have formed in his own mind, the alpha wolf reaches a large out to raise the auror's face, forcing viridian eyes to meet his.

"Do you need me to do anythin'?" Fenrir asks, his tone low.

"Oh, you don't have to do," Harry answers, the words quickly falling from his lips. "I didn't come here to ask for money or anything. I'll be just fine raising this baby on my own. I mean, I'll have my friends to help out I'm sure. Everything's going to be just fine."

At that moment, it becomes painfully obvious to the werewolf that the wizard's answers are all rehearsed. He finds himself wondering exactly how long it took for the auror to come here and have this awkward conversation.

Fenrir opens his mouth to speak but is interrupted by the sudden opening of his door. With the gust of cold air, the wolf instantly recognizes the scents of his two betas as they enter the quaint house.

"Ah Fenrir! Derrick and I thought that you'd like to kn-Oh! I'm so sorry," Scarlett apologizes after seeing that her alpha is not alone. "Are we interrupting?"

The female wolf's voice cuts through the weighted silence in the small cottage and seems to snap Harry out of his thoughts. Standing up from his seat on the wooden table, the wizard faces the two betas with an awkward half-smile.

"No, it's alright. I was just leaving."

With a quick look to Fenrir, Harry gathers himself and hastily makes his way out of the cottage. The alpha werewolf is still in shock for a moment before he too gets up to go after the wizard carrying his child. Ignoring the confused looks from his betas, he strides past them.

"Fenrir?"

"I'll be back, Derrick. I have some . . . _family _business to take care of."

Dumbfounded, both Scarlett and Derrick stare after the large man as he leaves them alone in the house to chase after the bespectacled wizard that has just left. A few moments of silence pass before the red-haired werewolf stares up at her mate.

" . . . Derrick, was I seeing things or was that Harry Potter just now?"

"That was him alright. Lightning bolt-shaped scar and everything."

"What business does he have with Fenrir? I thought we're supposed to report to Shacklebolt, not Potter."

"Scarlett, it's probably best to leave the alpha to his own business."

With that, the tall werewolf puts an arm around his curious mate as he leads her out of the alpha's home and back towards Hogsmeade. The news they had for Fenrir would obviously have to wait.

It doesn't take long for the werewolf to catch up to Harry. Then again the wizard hadn't apparated, he simply walked away from the cottage leaving a fresh trail of footprints in his wake. Though, Fenrir assumes that the wizard's current mode of travel is more out of Harry's need to sort out his current thoughts than effective transportation.

However, the wizard isn't the only one with thoughts to sort out.

So, deciding to not take any chances, Fenrir arms wrap around Harry's midsection the second he reaches him. An undignified gasp of surprise escapes the wizard's throat as he is lifted off his feet(seemingly with little effort) by the werewolf. On instinct, Harry starts to squirm to get out of the man's grasp.

"Let me go!"

"No, you aren't goin' anywhere, Potter!"

It only takes a few moments for Harry to wiggle out of the man's grip. Then again, Fenrir is trying to be as gentle as possible as the body is carrying his growing child.

Once he manages to get away, Harry focuses his magical energy towards apparition. The familiar tug originating from his navel is disturbed as the werewolf grabs onto him once again. Not wanting to splinch either of them, Harry instantly grabs onto Fenrir and brings him closer. After the surge of magic, the werewolf is shocked when he finds that the wizard has transported them both to London. Luckily for them, they seem to be in the middle of a rather-unoccupied area of a small park. Fenrir looks around their new location, the sunset glinting off a nearby pond just as Harry punches him(rather ineffectually) in the shoulder.

"Are you mad?! I could have _splinched_ you! Hey!"

The wizard is interrupted as he is picked up once again and carried over a broad shoulder. Fenrir sits him down on a stone wall and stands in front of him. Standing between slim thighs, the werewolf uses his arms to cage Harry in, as well as keep him in place.

"Now, no more runnin', Potter. You are going to stay put until we figure out how to handle this . . . situation."

"What do you mean?"

Looking down at Harry's face, the werewolf spots the anxiety underneath the defensiveness. Fenrir runs a hand through his grey-streaked hair as he thinks of what to say. Though, it isn't an easy feat with large emerald eyes looking up at him expectantly.

"Obviously, I didn't handle things quite right back there, did I?"

"Not really," concedes Harry as his fingers play with the ends of his scarf. "I can't blame you though. You handled the news better than I did. I'm not even sure I'm allowed back into St. Mungo's at this point."

"What'd you do at St. Mungo's?"

"Let's just say that I didn't handle my diagnosis as well as I could have," the Head Auror replies, with a grimace at the memory. "Hermione even had to restrain me at one point."

Finding it hard to believe that the wizard before him would do anything requiring him to be restrained, Fenrir quirks an eyebrow.

"You were that upset that you were pregnant with my kid?"

"It's not that I'm pregnant with _your _kid, Fenrir. Granted, that was a surprise," admits Harry. "It's that I'm pregnant _at all_. Just when I think I have a chance of having a bit of normalcy to my life, I end up being the first wizard in a century to get pregnant."

"I see."

"And if that wasn't enough, I'm the Head of the Auror department, how am I going to have a baby? I'm going to have to ask Minister Shacklebolt for maternity leave just two months after I took a holiday to see my friend. There's a fun conversation to look forward to."

For a moment, there is silence between the two. A defeated look appears on the face of "The Boy Who Lived" as he sinks further into his thoughts. However the expression is replaced with surprise when a large hand gingerly settles on his abdomen.

"Harry, I don't know what to say," Fenrir begins, his voice low. "I've never been good with this sort of thing."

"Well, at least you're being honest. It's a start."

"What can I do?"

"What do you mean?" questions the wizard.

"It is half my fault that you're pregnant, isn't it? There has to be something I can do to help."

For a moment, Harry thinks. Spotting a family of muggles making their way home, a thought pops into his head.

"Well, you could meet my family. Just so they can meet the real you, not the Fenrir Greyback they've read about in the _Daily Prophet_."

Thinking back on his rather unsavory past that has been chronicled by the wizard newspaper over the years, an unconvinced look appears on Fenrir's face.

"What makes you think that they won't attack me on sight?"

"I'll cast a Glamour on you, just a small one. We can act like we're just mates or something. I can just make up a name for you for now and then I'll tell them your real identity later. When you're safely out of Mrs. Weasley's striking range."

"You think of this all by yourself?"

"Well, it was the only way I could think of for them to get to know the father of my baby and keep the peace."

The werewolf looks down at Harry with a fondness that surprises even him. Fenrir can tell that the young auror had thought through this tricky situation long and hard. So, with a resigning sigh, he nods his head.

"Alright."

"Alright?"

"Name the day and I'll go meet your family," explains the werewolf. "As long as it's not a night of a full moon—it don't exactly bring out the _civility_ in me."

"Well, how about now? We're all gathering at Ron and Hermione's for dinner tonight, so it'd be a good chance as any to meet them all at once."

At the suggestion, Fenrir leans back giving the wizard a bit of space. He removes his hand from Harry(who misses the comforting touch) and holds it out to help the younger man up.

"Well then, what're we waitin' for?"

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**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**

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**Yeah, I'm not going to hold you up with any comment. See you at the bottom of the next chapter!**

**RENKA**


	3. Family Matters

**Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix**

**Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations**

**Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I'm basing a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie ****_Fools Rush In _****starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've decided to adjust into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.**

**This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.**

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**PART TWO OF A DOUBLE UPDATE, PLEASE READ CHAPTER TWO BEFORE READING THIS ONE!**

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**CHAPTER THREE - Family Matters**

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The home of Ronald and Hermione Weasley is located in the countryside outside of London. The stone walls with wooden shutters complement the rolling green yard that is offset with early-blooming wildflowers. Lit up with paper lanterns, laughter is heard coming from the rear of the house. Completely ordinary looking, it blends in with the rest of the muggle homes scattered around them. In fact, only if one knew what to look for, would one notice the magic aspects of the residential home.

It is just after sunset as Harry and Fenrir make their way up the country road. The werewolf takes in a deep breath of fresh air which makes his inner wolf itch to run about.

"This is it, eh?"

"Yeah," replies the wizard as his eyes spot 's magically- refurbished car. "It looks like we're the last ones to arrive."

The werewolf beside him grunts in acknowledgement at the comment. As they approach the walkway to the door, Harry looks up at the man once more to check that his Glamour charm is in place. Not much has been changed on Fenrir, his hair was now shorter and a dark-brown color while the sharp features of his face have been softened just a bit. The man's characteristic piercing blue eyes have been muted to a warm gray. Satisfied that the werewolf wouldn't be recognized on sight, Harry takes a deep breath.

"Relax, pup. If you seem tense, others will pick up on it."

"Oh, right-"

Harry is interrupted as Fenrir leans down and kisses him, a strong arm wrapping around the wizard's thin waist. The press of lips is slow and sensual, yet no less passionate as the ones they shared the first time. It is with a soft moan that both wizard and werewolf pull apart. Harry face is flushed, yet devoid of all traces of the nervousness he had before.

"There you are," Fenror observes, pleased with his handiwork. "Nice and relaxed."

However, before the wizard can say anything, the door opens.

"Hello Harry! Good to see you!"

In shock, green eyes are surprised to be greeted by Bill Weasley. The elder brother of his best friend has aged well in the passing years. As Bill smiles down at the young wizard, the scars across his face crinkle.

"Hello Bill. It's, good to see you too. How's Fleur and Victoire?"

"Good. They're out back, actually. I just came around for a quick smoke. Fleur doesn't let me do it around her," answers the tall red-head as he closes the door behind him. "So Harry, who's your friend?"

Turning to the large man beside him, Harry puts on a smile.

"Bill, this is Grayson, he's a recent friend of mine. Grayson, this is Bill Weasley."

The two men shake hands at the introduction as Harry nervously watches the exchange. For a moment, Bill studies the face of the man, as if trying to see something on the larger man's features. Fenrir shows no signs of being uncomfortable with the scrutiny as he keeps his gaze locked with the red-head's. Not able to find whatever he is looking for, Bill releases the man's hand with a small grin.

"Well Grayson, a friend of Harry's is always welcome."

"I appreciate that."

In the silence, Bill pulls out a cigarette and puts in between his lips. He lights it with a quick charm as his eyes remain on the disguised Fenrir.

"I have to admit Harry, this is a pretty good Glamour you put on Fenrir. It even threw me off at first."

At the words, Harry blanches as the werewolf beside him grins in amusement.

"H-how did you know?!"

"Can't hide scent with a spell," answers Fenrir helpfully as he regards Bill. "He may not be able to turn into a full werewolf, but he still has the senses of one."

Turning to Fenrir, the young wizard is still in shock but manages to level a glare at the man.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

"How was I supposed to know he'd be here?"

"Look, I don't know what's going on here," Bill starts, interrupting the odd couple before him. "But, an explanation would be helpful."

"Bill, it's hard to explain exactly, but Fenrir and I know each other. We met up recently and—"

"Does this have anything to do with him working for the Ministry now? I think I remember reading something about that in the _Prophet_."

At the convenient explanation being provided for him, Harry begins to slowly nod his head.

"Yeah, exactly."

The scarred red-head looks over the two as he inhales and then releases out a slow exhale of smoke. Watching the wisps disappear into the night air, the man seems to come to a conclusion.

"Fenrir, we were on opposite sides of a war that is long over. And for a long time, I was angry with you for attacking me. However, now I'm a husband and a father and I don't wish to relive the past. Let bygones, be bygones I say. We've all lost too much. The best way to move on with all of our lives is to look to the future."

At the hidden question directed at him, the alpha werewolf can't help but stare down at the emerald gaze of the wizard beside him. With a warm smile he looks back up at Bill.

"I couldn't agree with you more, Weasley."

"Excellent," Bill replies as he puts out his cigarette. The butt disappearing with a flick of his wrist. "Then let's go. Everyone's getting ready to eat."

As Bill turns to walk to the backyard, Harry is still in a state of shock at the acceptance that the elder Weasley is extending. However, "The Boy Who Lived" decides not to question it as he leads Fenrir around his friends' home.

The trio walk into the large yard that holds the Weasley family as well as Hermione's muggle parents who seem to be in a deep conversation with Arthur. The next generation of wizards run about engulfed in their simple games. Looking around at the people he calls family, even as he remembers those he lost in the war, Harry can't help but smile.

"Oh Harry, it is so good to see you!" greets Molly Weasley with a large smile. "It's been ages, dear!"

The Head Auror is quickly wrapped up in a large hug from the woman he considers a mother.

"It has been too long, . Sorry about that."

"Now, now, there's no need for any of that. You just come in and eat something. I swear every time I see you, you are nothing but skin and bones."

Turning her attention to the large man standing next to Bill, has a surprised look on her face.

"Oh, who is your friend, Harry?"

"This is Grayson. He's an acquaintance of mine. I hope that it's alright that I brought him."

"Of course it's alright," pipes up Ginny as she makes her way into the conversation. "Mum always makes too much food anyway."

Seeing his ex girlfriend, Harry is a bit unsure how to act. The two broke up rather amicably, but the situation is still a bit awkward. Luckily for the wizard, the guess work is taken out of the situation as Ginny walks up to him and hugs him. The comforting embrace is the same as before they started dating. It is a simple, yet affectionate gesture which Harry returns, the wizard relieved that there seems to be no hard feelings.

After Harry introduces "Grayson" to both of the redheaded witches, a knowing look appears on Ginny's face.

"Oh, Ron and Hermione are in the kitchen. They'll want to see you, Harry."

"Right then. Grayson, come with me."

Leading the way, Harry and Fenrir travel through the house and into the kitchen. The werewolf takes notice of the photographs on the walls, smirking when he spots a very young version of Harry with his arms around a familiar bushy-haired girl and a young redhead boy. Once the two reach their destination, Fenrir watches as Harry instantly wraps his arms around the older versions of the children in that picture—his two best friends.

"Hello, Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

"Harry!" exclaims both Hermione and Ron. The two forgetting their tasks about the kitchen to greet the wizard.

The golden trio embrace in a long hug, the life-long friends ecstatic to see each other. It seems that has been some time since Harry has seen Ron and Hermione, then again being the head of a Ministry department has a way of taking up all of Harry's time. From his place in the doorframe, Fenrir notices that only Hermione makes sure not to embrace Harry too tightly.

"Harry, I didn't know you were coming mate! Why didn't you tell me?"

"That is the point of a surprise isn't it, Ron?"

"Speaking of surprises," starts Hermione, her attention going to the stranger in her kitchen. "Who is your friend?"

Turning to Fenrir, Harry moves out of their embrce and closer to the werewolf.

"This is Grayson. He's a friend of mine from London."

As they all exchange pleasantries, Hermione offers a welcoming smile, drawing attention to the fact that the once bushy-haired girl has grown into her looks. Ron, however has a suspicious expression on his face.

"Grayson, huh?"

"Be nice, Ronald."

"I am being a perfect gentleman, Hermione," Ron explains to his wife before turning his attention back to the stranger in his house. "So Grayson, where did you meet Harry?"

At the hard stare coming from the redhead, Fenrir has to fight to keep the smirk of his face. He mentally reminds himself that these are Harry's friends. Therefore, it wouldn't make a good impression if the werewolf knocked the wizard down a few pegs.

"We bumped into each other at a pub a while back," replies Fenrir, his voice deceptively calm. "We had a few pints together, is all. Harry is good company."

"So, Harry actually has free time to hang out."

"Ron, seriously?" the wizard questions, his own annoyance clear in his voice.

"What? We haven't seen you in ages. And then you do show up, it's with a bloke that you've never even talked about, not even _once_. It's a bit weird."

"Let's get out of firing range, Grayson. I'll take your coat."

As Hermione leads Fenrir away, the two can still hear Ron and Harry arguing in the background. A grin is on the witch's face as she takes Fenrir's coat and hangs it in the hall closet.

"Don't mind them. Harry and Ronald have always been that way. They're best friends but they butt heads all the time. Personally, I just think Ronald worries, not that he'd ever admit it."

At the comment, Fenrir smirks as he hears the argument in the kitchen rise a bit in volume. From the sound of it, Harry is winning.

"Harry doesn't like that, I take it."

"No, then again, Harry doesn't really know how to let people take care of him. I swear, if they didn't fight, they wouldn't know how to show they care."

Entering the living room of the Weasley's home, Fenrir spots a collection of photographs on the wall. The images move as all wizard photographs tend to do, the figures reliving the same moment in an endless cycle. Walking over to a particular frame, the werewolf spots a rather recent photo of Harry with his arm around a young woman with large eyes and long pale hair. The two have large matching smiles as they seem to share some sort of inside joke.

"Who is this with Harry?"

"Oh, that's Luna Lovegood. She's an old schoolmate of ours. Luna and Harry have always had a strange connection to each other. Admittedly, it takes some time to get used to her, but she is a loyal friend. She and Harry send each other owls rather regularly, and I think he just visited her a few months ago. That particular picture is from her last trip here."

"I see."

"Alright, follow me Grayson. You must be starving. I'll get you started on a plate."

Fenrir takes one last look at the photo before following Hermione outside.

The family get together is in full swing as the night continues. Good food and laughter flow through the Weasley's backyard as everyone gets comfortable. Even Fenrir, disguised with a simple charm, finds himself laughing along with Harry's family. Noticing the werewolf's ease, Harry leaves his seat beside him to refill his cup. A small smile is on his lips as he is cornered at the punch bowl by Hermione.

"Harry, I'm really glad you made it, tonight. I was a bit worried about you since our last chat-"

"Everything's fine." insists the auror, not wanting certain information overheard at the moment. "I've had some time to sort things out and everything is just fine."

Instantly recognizing the overuse of the word "fine" as anything but, the witch decides to inquire into another area of her friend's life.

"So, this Grayson that you brought with you," begins Hermione in a low whisper. "Is he really just a friend, or is he the father of your baby?"

At the knowing look on sharp witch's face, Harry gently pulls her closer.

"Yes he is, but could you keep that between us? I haven't told anyone else about my _condition _yet."

"Harry, please don't tell me that you're waiting until you start to show."

"No, I just think telling everyone that I'm knocked up is a bit much for dinner conversation," Harry rationalizes as he stares out at the group of people that he cares about most. "Look, I promise that I'll tell everyone when I'm ready."

Seeing the apprehension on her friend's face, Hermione decides to drop the subject. She instead opts to place a reassuring hand on his shoulder as a silent show of support.

"Whatever you think is best, Harry. However, if you need anyone to go with you for your next appointment at St. Mungo's, just let me know. You can call if you like, Ron still doesn't know how to use a cellular phone so he won't find out about it."

At Hermione's words, the auror lets out a chuckle.

"Thanks, Hermione."

From his seat at one of the long picnic tables set up in the Weasley's backyard, Fenrir watches as Harry converses with his friends and pseudo-family. Engulfed in his observations, the man almost misses the two small children that run up to him. One is a reamarkably-pretty blonde girl, the other, a slightly-older boy with hair that seems to change colors at his whim.

"Ello! My name es Victoire and this es Teddy."

Smirking down at the two children before him, the large man turns to face them fully.

"Hullo, how can I help you two?"

"Arr you _really_ Uncle Arry's friend?" pipes up Victoire, her accented voice giving her a charm all her own.

"Yes."

"But you're old," comments the boy, finally adding to the conversation, as he stares at the large man.

The werewolf sinds himself more amused than insulted by the sudden remark. Then again, the man is well into his forties and can't really deny the fact. So, after a quick laugh, he grins down at the two children.

"Let's just say that Harry and I are a special kind of friends."

"Oh, okay."

Fenrir stares at Teddy's soft facial features for a long moment, a quick whiff of the boy's scent confirming his thoughts.

"You look just like your father when he was a pup. With the exception of the color-changin' hair, of course."

Teddy eyes widen as his interest in the disguised werewolf grows. Moving closer, large eyes take a deep look at Fenrir.

"You knew my daddy, too?"

"I did. We weren't exactly friends though, Remus and I."

Mulling this new information about in his young mind, the boy surprises the man by offering a smile.

"Well, maybe you can be my friend?"

At the pure innocence in the boy's face, Fenrir finds himself completely lost. A genuine smile comes to his features as pats Teddy Lupin on the head.

"Maybe pup, maybe."

Harry smiles as he watches Fenrir interact with the two children. Emerald eyes have been on the werewolf since his godchild had approached him, curious to see how Fenrir would handle it. Pleasantly surprised by the outcome, the wizard's hand subconsciously lingers on his stomach before helping carry now-empty dishes into the kitchen.

As the wizard puts the dishes into the sink, the charmed fixture doing all the work to clean them, Fenrir comes up behind him. He nuzzles the side of Harry's throat causing the auror to jump slightly in surprise.

"F-fenrir, stop. Anyone could come in and see us. There are children here, you know."

"I'll hear anyone the second they come inside the house," the man whispers as his hands slowly travel up and down the wizard's body. "Besides, can't expect me to keep my hands off of you for too long."

At that, Harry turns around in Fenrir's grip, and opens his mouth to argue. However, it is quickly silenced by the werewolf's eager lips. The wizard attempts to fight it, but gives in when he is pressed against the muscular body. Ignoring better reason, Harry gives into the kiss, not carrying that they are standing in his best friends' kitchen. When the werewolf breaks their contact, Harry's lips are slightly swollen.

Fenrir smiles as he moves away, mere seconds before Ron enters the room. The auror absently realizes that this is the second time that they've been interrupted by a Weasley as he runs a hand through his unruly hair.

"So here's where you got to, Harry," the redheaded wizard comments, oblivious to anything that was going on in the room before his entrance. " 'Mione told me to give you this potion. Somethin' about a cold."

Taking the offered vial from his friend, Harry offers him a grateful smile.

"Oh, er—tell her I said thanks."

"You two about to head out?"

"Yeah, Grayson and I need to get back to London."

"Alright. Look, sorry about before and everything. But seriously, don't be a stranger, mate. It's been a while since we've all hung out together."

"Sure thing. Goodnight, Ron. Tell Hermione I said goodnight."

"I'll pass it along, Harry. Grayson, it was nice meeting you. Make sure Harry gets home safe, alright?"

"Will do," replies Fenrir, his gaze fixated on the dark-haired wizard beside him.

After Harry says goodbye to the various members of the Weasley and Granger family, he and Fenrir walk out. The night is a bit chilly as the two walk away from Ron and Hermione's home. No words are exchanged as they make their way along the country road. The simple sounds of chirping crickets fill the silence. After a few moments pass, Harry takes the werewolf's hand and apparates them back to Fenrir's cottage in Hogsmeade. Once in the man's temporary lodgings, Harry releases a breath.

"Thanks, Fenrir. I know that it was a bit uncomfortable at times, but I really appreciate you doing this for me."

The wizard's words earn him a non-committal shrug from the werewolf.

"Your friends care about you so they're just protective, I understand. Werewolf packs aren't much different. Besides, it makes me feel better, knowin' that they will take good care of the both of you."

At the mention of their unborn child, Harry nods in agreement.

"It makes me feel better too. When I tell them who the father is, they won't just think of the old you. They'll think of the Fenrir they had dinner with tonight."

"They'll just hate me even more, Harry. Not that it ain't justified."

Something about the werewolf's tone of voice makes Harry approach him. But before he does or says anything, the wizard takes out his wand. A flick of his wrist and a few murmured words removes the Glamour charm from the man's face. Seeing the familiar visage of Fenrir Greyback staring back at him, a small smirk appears on the wizard's lips.

"I won't let them."

Looking down into the determination reflected in entrancing green eyes, Fenrir slowly pulls Harry close. The man's nose is quickly buried in the thick locks of the wizard's hair. After a deep inhale of the wizard's addictive scent, the werewolf speaks—his voice still retaining its rich, gravely tone even as a whisper.

"I want to be there."

"Fenrir, you don't have to," Harry interjects, pulling back to look up at the man. "We talked about this before. I know that this isn't what you expected would happen from that night and-"

Harry is cut off when Fenrir leans in to kiss him. This time the gesture is the intense exchange that the wizard has been thinking of for the past few months. The dominance that pours off the werewolf brings out the submissive qualities of the wizard's personality while simultaneously bringing about his own urges. As firm lips explore his mouth, pale fingers run through thick, grey-streaked hair. Encouraging groans rumble out of the larger man's throat as the auror's other hand trails along the werewolf's well-defined body. A smile crosses his lips as a large palm lingers on Harry's lower abdomen right where their child is growing. So engulfed in Fenrir's ministrations, the wizard barely notices as he is laid upon the plush rug before the fireplace. At the change of orientation, he opens his viridian eyes to see the werewolf above him silhouetted by the flickering flames.

"I take care of what's mine, Harry," murmurs Fenrir as their lips part. His low voice joined only by the crackling fire and Harry's panting as he catches his breath. "Always have, always will."

"And how exactly do you plan to do that?"

"Well, first I'm going to make you _mine_, pup. Put my mark on that pretty throat of yours, right here," states the werewolf right before he swipes his tongue along the area for emphasis. "Make sure that everyone knows that your body belongs to me."

The possessive tone sends a shiver of pure desire through Harry's body. Unprepared for such a reaction, the wizard forces himself to take a second to organize his thoughts—all the while, shifting nervously under Fenrir's heated gaze.

"If I did let you mark me, what would that do exactly?"

"Means that you, Harry Potter, would be mine and I'd be responsible for takin' care of and providin' for you and our little pup. I'd see to all of your needs and you'd satisfy mine."

"And what would your _needs_ entail?" Harry asks, raising an eyebrow.

The question makes the grin on the werewolf's face grow wider as he takes an appreciative look over the wizard beneath him.

"Well, you're a smart wizard aren't ya? Figure it out."

Staring up at the embodiment of wild masculinity above him, Harry finds himself warming up to the idea of belonging to the man. He can't really explain it, but it would be nice to have one aspect of his life where he doesn't have to be in charge. For the young auror, it is all too appealing to be able to depend on someone else for a change. Fenrir Greyback isn't exactly the person he envisioned having a child with, however "The Boy Who Lived" can't deny that the man has a certain rough charm to him. After all, the man's charm entranced Harry into one of the best conversations he had in ages and it seduced him into the passionate tryst that resulted in the child now growing inside of him.

All in all, the wizard finds himself curious—what would it be like to be Fenrir Greyback's mate? The man is feared by many, yet he is slowly earning support within the Ministry of Magic. Fenrir has committed crimes, yet he is making amends for it by helping to hunt down those that wish to continue the Dark Lord's work. In time, the werewolf could become a well-respected member of wizarding society. But, if Harry is truly honest with himself, he finds that he genuinely likes the man, just as he is. He has no desire to smooth out the rough edges of the man's personality. There are probably better reasons for starting a relationship, then again it's not as if Harry has ever done anything in his life the "normal" way—so why start now?

"So, for werewolves, being mates is sort of like being married, then?"

"You could say that," answers Fenrir, the alpha wolf already sensing that the wizard is leaning towards saying 'yes' to his proposal.

"Merlin, this is insane," Harry states, his sense of logic suddenly coming back full force. "Just because we're having a baby together doesn't mean that we need to become mates or whatever. Plenty of people have children without being involved with one another."

Leaning in a bit, piercing blue eyes rove over the lithe body laid out beneath him. Fenrir intentionally making it so the wizard can practically feel the lust from his gaze before locking with the emerald ones peering through trademark glasses.

"You're right, we don't _have_ to be mated," begins Fenrir, his hand gently caressing Harry's side. His fingers stroking the warm skin just underneath the light sweater covering the wizard's torso. "But the thing with werewolves is, we tend to get real possessive. My more feral side may not like the fact that our mate is out in the world unclaimed, specially since you are with cub. After all, werewolf cubs need their sire just as much as they need their carrier."

"So, this is more like, preventative measures?" asks Harry, his own hand running up the man's chest.

"Preventative would be if you and I used some sort of protection two months ago. My instincts have always led me, Harry. And right now, they are tellin' me that lettin' you leave my sight without my claim on you would be the biggest mistake of my life. What're your instincts tellin' you?"

For a moment, Harry is completely speechless by what the man has said. However, what truly steals his words is the intense, yet honest longing that is visible in Fenrir's eyes. A slow smile appears on the wizard's face as he stares up at the infamous werewolf.

"My instincts are telling me that as completely mad as all of this is, I should just say yes."

"Then maybe, you should just listen to 'em."

With those words, Fenrir closes the gap between them with a deep kiss. The larger man keeps most of his weight off of Harry's smaller form, yet still manages to engulf the wizard with his intense presence. Once again, the two men make quick work of their clothing in their urgency to feel their bodies pressed against each other.

Fenrir leaves the wizard's soft lips to travel along the supple skin that covers the curve his throat. As the werewolf's mouth tastes and nips its way along his body, Harry's hands explore the man at their leisure. His quick fingers run over shifting muscle and trace the many scars that litter the sun-darkened skin. A low groan escapes the wizard's throat as he feels the man's stubble graze against his skin as Fenrir reunites their lips in another passionate kiss.

Lying between the lean thighs spread for him, the werewolf can't help but lick his lips in anticipation. Fenrir has never been as passionate with a lover as he is with the wizard now carrying his child. Sure, he has had plenty of satisfying sex, but with Harry it feels completely different. Every touch, from light caress to heavy grope, sets off intense reactions of pleasure as they discover the nuances of each other's bodies.

Both Harry and Fenrir realize at the same moment when their touches, as addictive as they are, are no longer enough. Without words, the wizard settles on his back while his soon-to-be mate gets into position. The two males lock eyes with one another, each of their gazes hazy with lust. Panting, Harry holds on to the last shreds of his patience as his body is prepared to be thoroughly claimed by the man above him.

Dealing with his own urges to simply take the body offered to him, Fenrir slowly enters Harry. Instead of simply using the tight, enveloping heat to bring about his own end, the werewolf forces his thrusts to be slow, allowing his smaller mate to adjust to his size. The effort is not an easy one, as the wizard looks delectable underneath him—a thin sheen of sweat on his features as the soft glow of firelight plays across his pale, smooth skin. Closing his eyes to the tempting sight, Fenrir focuses on making the experience as painless as possible. He is startled out of his intense concentration when a pale hand is gently pressed against the werewolf's cheek.

"Fenrir?"

"Yeah, pup?"

"Not that I don't appreciate _this_," begins the flushed wizard, indicating the man's considerate efforts. "But I'm not made of glass. And if you go any slower, I'll have no choice but to hex you into next week."

At the demand, the werewolf grins lecherously. His large hands spread the well-toned thighs further as he increases his pace, the new rhythm forcing a keening cry to leave Harry's lips as his back arches felinely.

"I knew there was a reason I liked you so much, Potter."

With that, the two men say very little(at least coherently) as they focus on the intense reactions they are drawing from each other's bodies. Piercing blue orbs focus on the pale wizard as he gives himself over to pleasure, a pride unlike any he's ever known before swells in the man as he forces moan after moan from pink, kiss-bruised lips. Half-lidded emerald eyes in turn fixate on the man before him, entranced by the shifting of powerful muscles and impressed by their strength as the man suddenly pulls him into his lap. Any reservations that Harry has held onto are thrown out the window as he is bombarded with the new sensations racking his lithe frame. Looking up at the man inspiring them, the wizard is pleased to see that he is having a similar effect.

Just as he can feel the familiar buildup to the all-too satisfying rush of endorphins, Harry feels the werewolf's mouth on his throat. Lips and tongue map the area before he feels sharp canines graze the sensitized skin. However, just as the wizard gives into the mind-blowing euphoria, Fenrir's teeth sink in. His convulsing body rides out the waves of pleasure as blood trickles down his throat. A loud, deafening howl is all that is heard before Harry slips into sated darkness.

The werewolf not too far behind him.

* * *

The next morning.

* * *

This time, when Fenrir is awoken by another irritating beam of sunlight(disoriented a bit since he's on the floor) there is no frustration. Instead, his body thrums with satisfaction as a comforting weight shifts on top of him. The mop of familiar dark hair on his furred chest nuzzles further into his body as its owner tightens his grip on the blanket—the woven cover had been summoned sometime after their _activities_. As the wizard moves about, Fenrir catches a glimpse of the healing mark on his mate's pale shoulder, the skin covering the biten area has darkened into a large blotch of swollen skin. An odd sense of calm settles over the werewolf at the physical proof that the one carrying his child has been properly claimed.

"Mornin', Harry."

"Morning," replies the wizard as he yawns. Lifting his head up, Harry uses a hand to rub a bit of the sleep from his eyes. It takes him a moment to realize that his trademark eyewear isn't on his face. "Where are my glasses?"

"Safe and sound on the table."

"Oh, good then. . . *yawn*Won't have to transfigure a new pair, later."

After that comment, "The Savior of the Wizarding World" then returns his head to the warmth emanating from Fenrir's chest. The rather cute gesture coming from the man that defeated the Dark Lord paired with the disheveled appearance makes the werewolf chuckle. Harry looks up as the sound reverberates within the broad chest that is currently his pillow.

"What?"

"It's nothin', Potter," comments the man, running a hand through the mess of dark hair. "Nothin' at all."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**

* * *

**So, unfortunately, you shall have to wait until next week to find out what happens next. In any case, I hope you all liked these two chapters.**

**Until next time, **

**Later Days!**

**RENKA**


	4. Settling In

**Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix**

**Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations**

**Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I'm basing a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie ****_Fools Rush In _****starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've decided to adjust into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.**

**This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.**

**Before we get started on this installment, I just want to take a moment to once again thank everyone that has commented, faved, or simply read this story. I really appreciate the feedback and I'm glad that you are all liking it so far.**

**Now, since it took me longer than expected to post this chapter, I made it extra long (over 7,500 words!)**

**So, with no further ado . . .**

* * *

**CHAPTER FOUR - Settling In**

* * *

In the eerie darkness of the Forbidden Forest, Fenrir Greyback watches over his pack mates and the group of aurors he has been charged with. His ears are attuned to the rustle of leaves and the scurrying noises of the creatures that make up the inhabitants of the dark woods. Yet, even in this state of hyper awareness, Fenrir seems to be in a uncharacteristic good mood. Now, the man isn't skipping through the woods and singing a tune, however his usual scowl has been replaced by a satisfied smirk.

Then again, three straight days of passionate(and rather creative) sex would have a lingering effect on anyone—even a notorious werewolf.

Lost in his graphic mental replay of the past weekend with his new mate, the alpha werewolf is oblivious to the concerned stares coming from his betas.

His gaze on the forest around them, piercing blue eyes almost miss Derrick's hesitant approach. Fenrir takes his time to turn and face the grey-eyed man. With a smooth rise of his eyebrow, he looks expectantly at the slightly-shorter man.

"Somethin' wrong, Derrick?" Fenrir asks. Glancing around the man, he catches Scarlett looking on with trepidation as the team of aurors continue their work behind them.

"No, everything is going as well as it can. I simply wanted to talk."

"About?"

"Well, Fenrir, you seem to be in a good mood . . ." trails the other man, his tone a bit more accusatory than Fenrir would like.

"Actually, I am in an _excellent _mood, Derrick," the alpha replies, his shark-like grin unnerving his old friend for a brief moment.

"And this _excellent_ mood of yours, would it have anything to do with that visit from Harry Potter a few days ago?"

The instant that Derrick mentions his mate's name, the look of amusement on Fenrir's face becomes tainted with desire. Bright blue eyes darken as the man's nostrils flare, as if trying to catch a lingering whiff of Harry that managed to stick to him. Derrick notices all these subtle changes with widened eyes, making him even more suspicious of his alpha.

"Yes, it does," Fenrir replies after taking a moment to collect himself. His mind leaving his own private thoughts in order to return to the present conversation. "Do you have a problem with that?"

"No, it's not my business who you shag, Fenrir. Scarlett and I are simply concerned for you."

The grin on the man's face lessens a bit as he turns to face the man that he has come to think of as a friend. Fenrir is not the least bit surprised that his beta knew that he's sleeping with the "Savior of the Wizarding World". It almost makes him feel a little guilty about the rest of the news he has yet to deliver—_almost_.

"Neither of you need to be concerned," Fenrir states with a small smile.

Derrick can't help but release a sigh of relief as he runs a hand over his buzzed hair, seemingly satisfied with the reassurance. Although, he knows that it would be remiss to ignore what has raised the concern for his alpha in the first place.

"Normally, I would take your word for anything, Fenrir. However, when Scarlett and I see _the_ Harry Potter sitting in _your_ cottage, it changes things a bit. And then before we can even begin to make sense of the situation, both of you are out the door and neither of us see you for three days straight. We do have an extensive job to do here and less than a year to finish it. The pack is so close to finishing our contract with the ministry, perhaps now isn't the time for . . . distractions."

After he finishes, Derrick's grey eyes study the other werewolf. A look of consideration passes over Fenrir's face as he turns to face his second in command.

"I am more than aware of the job we have to finish here, Derrick. **No one **has more desire than me to finally be free of the Ministry."

Intense blue eyes narrow suddenly as possessive anger makes its way onto Fenrir's rugged features. The gesture silently reminds the beta wolf why the man before him rules over every werewolf without question.

"That bein' said, don't ever call my mate a _distraction _again. Got it?"

Derrick nods in silent agreement, the beta wolf flabbergasted by more than one part of that statement. However, being the practical man that he is, he decides to focus on the most pertinent.

"You found a mate, I never thought that yo—_wait a second_!" Derrick interrupts himself when he makes the connection. The man then drops his voice to a whisper, mindful of the team of aurors nearby. "You're mated to Harry Potter, aren't you?"

"Yes, I claimed him," confirms Fenrir, unable to keep the pride out of his voice.

"But, why? I mean sure, Harry Potter is a valuable ally but it makes no sense. Why would you claim him so quickly, it's not like he's carrying your pups or something."

"Accordin' to the staff as St. Mungo's, the pup is due in November."

At that tidbit, the man physically blanches.

"That's it, it's finally happened, you've gone completely mad, Fenrir. Males can't get pregnant, no matter how many times you sleep with them."

The comment rolls right off the alpha werewolf as he shrugs noncommittally.

"Apparently, wizards are funny like that," states the larger man. The claim on his sanity remains neither confirmed nor denied as Fenrir leans himself against a nearby tree before he continues. "Can't change what's already happened, Derrick. The two of us shagged, the pup got pregnant, and I claimed him as mine. No use makin' a fuss over it."

The blasé statement makes Derrick shake his head in disbelief. As beta to Fenrir Greyback for the last few years, the man has witnessed his alpha do all types of things, with little(if any) regard with how others handle it. Fenrir lived his life by his own code and made no apologies for it. Honestly, it was one of the things that Derrick hated, and simultaneously admired, most about the man.

"I'm glad that you are taking this so calmly, Fenrir. What happens when the Ministry finds out that you've claimed their Golden Boy? Do you really think that's going to make wizards warm up to werewolves if we go around impregnating them?"

Fenrir can't help but chuckle at his beta's words.

"You aren't seein' the other side of this, Derrick. Harry isn't some witch I took advantage of in some dark alley. He was an equal participant, more than equal at some points," trails off the werewolf as he thinks back, a lascivious grin on his features.

"Fenrir, focus please."

Amused by the uncomfortable look on the other man's face, Fenrir chuckles.

"Funny, I seem to remember you and Scarlett holin' up for weeks when the two of you finally mated. When I finally did see you, you just had a dopey look on yer face."

"Fine," admits Derrick, a smirk on his own face as he thinks back to his own mating to the redheaded wolf a few yards away. "However, you did have a point to make, right?"

"Yes, I did," answers Fenrir nonchalantly, "As I was sayin', Harry in addition to bein' the 'Savior' and what not, is still the Ministry's Head Auror. If anyone was to vouch for werewolves, he'd be one that other wizards would actually listen to. Besides, couldn't hurt to have someone pro-lycan in the Ministry of Magic."

As they talk, they are suddenly joined by a large owl as it makes it's way through the thick foliage. The tawny-feathered bird drops down to land on the remains of a fallen tree. Looking at the two werewolves, it hoots in acknowledgement before going to clean it's feathers. Both men stare at the bird then at each other. Neither werewolf is expecting the sudden mail, as Kingsley usually communicated with them via his Patronus. Derrick approaches the owl first and removes the letter tied to its leg. The werewolf isn't too surprised as he reads whom it's addressed to.

"It's for you, Fenrir."

Raising an eyebrow, the large man makes his way over to his beta and the mail-carrying owl. Fenrir takes the letter only to be surprised that the envelope holds another letter. Opening the flap, his eyes grow a bit in surprise.

"Fuck."

The swear wrapped in an annoyed growl easily catches Derrick's attention. He makes his way over to the larger werewolf and attempts to peer over the man's wide shoulders.

"What is it?"

"It's a bloody Howler," replies Fenrir. The alpha glaring at the telltale red paper that peeks out of the standard white envelope.

"A Howler? Who would send you a howler?"

"Only one way to find out."

Opening the rest of the letter, the two werewolves watch as the red envelope reshapes itself into an angry scowl. Fenrir and Derrick both prepare to be hit with the auditory assault. However, only one of them is taken by further surprise when the voice of Ron Weasley, amplified into a high-pitched screech, breaks the eerie calm of the Forbidden Forest.

"**FENRIR GREYBACK, I AM GOING TO _FUCKING_ CASTRATE YOU IF YOU EVER SHOW YOUR FACE AGAIN! WHERE THE HELL DO YOU GET OFF BUGGERIN' MY BEST MATE! AND IF THAT WEREN'T BAD ENOUGH, NOW THE TWO OF YOU ARE THE WEREWOLF EQUIVALENT OF BEING MARRIED, WHATEVER THE BLOODY HELL THAT IS! I WELCOME YOU INTO MY HOME, AROUND MY FAMILY, AND THE THANKS I GET IS THAT YOU GO BITE MY BEST FRIEND LIKE SOME ANIMAL! EXACTLY THE SORT OF THING I'D EXPECT FROM A REVOLTING MONSTER LIKE YOU, GREYBACK! WHAT? BILL WASN'T ENOUGH FOR YOU! YOU BETTER TAKE DAMN GOOD CARE OF HIM AND YOUR KID OR I AM GOING TO HUNT YOU DOWN AND HANG YOUR MANGY PELT ON MY WALL!** . . . There, that should do it. _Hermione_, I know how to send a Howler, for Merlin's sake! Mum taught me. Wait, _what?_ It's still going? Oh, bollocks—"

Once it has said its piece, the red letter flutters to the ground as useless red paper before ripping itself to pieces. For a few awkward seconds, both werewolves, as well as Scarlett and the group of aurors are in complete shock. The Forbidden Forest seems even more unnaturally silent after the shrill tirade that caught everyone's attention.

Luckily, Fenrir is the first to recover. He puts the envelope that the Howler came in into his pocket. The man silently thanking whatever sense the redhead wizard had that he had not actually named Harry Potter. After all, Fenrir is well aware that the last thing his wizard would appreciate is being ousted as pregnant and mated in front of the very aurors he was responsible for.

Clearing his throat, the werewolf turns to the silent onlookers.

"What are all you gapin' at?! The Forbidden Forest ain't gonna map itself! Get back to work!"

The commanding tone and dominating aura emanating from Fenrir instantly snaps everyone out of their individual trances. All three aurors are seemingly smart enough not to question the strange howler out loud and dutifully return to their maps and runes. Scarlett exchanges a meaningful look with her mate before returning her attention back to the group of wizards.

Once the alpha and beta are once alone in conversation, Fenrir feels a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"And I thought my in-laws were bad," comments Derrick, a commiserating expression on his face.

After a few more hours deep in the Forbidden Forest, the werewolves and wizards have no further disruptions—except for a few pesky Bowtruckles. The thin tree dwellers pelting the group with sticks and rocks when one of the aurors' wayward spells accidentally damages their protected trees. Tired and nursing a few burgeoning bruises, the team makes their way into Hogsmeade ready to turn in for their night. With plans to meet up the next morning, the aurors head to their temporary housing, leaving the werewolves to their own devices.

When he opens the door to his Ministry-lent cottage, Fenrir is greeted by the now-familiar sight of a pale, dark-haired wizard in his home. Harry, clad in a baggy sweater and faded jeans, is brewing a pot of tea at the simple stove located within the small home. A smile curves Fenrir's lips as he watches the dark-haired auror use his wand to transfigure a tumbler into a suitable teacup.

"Ya' know, I can buy you a tea cup if you're plannin' to spend so much time here."

Noticing that he is no longer alone, Harry walks over to Fenrir with an apology on his lips. "The Boy Who Lived" completely missing the two werewolves behind the large man.

"Fenrir, I am _so_ sorry! I can't believe that Ron sent you a Howler, of all things."

"Wait? How'd you know about that?"

"Hermione called me. Apparently, he sent it once I left, after I told them about . . . well, everything, really."

Catching the meaning of his words, the werewolf moves closer to Harry. Fenrir knows that it couldn't have been easy for the wizard to explain to his friends that he is pregnant with Fenrir Greyback's child. The lycan wishes that he could've been there to support his mate as he looks down into deep forest-green eyes.

"Still, doesn't explain why you're apologizin'. Not like you sent it," soothes Fenrir, his hand carding through the unruly dark locks on his mate's head once he's within reach.

"But still. He is my best mate, I feel a little responsible for him. Thank Merlin, Hermione managed to calm him down enough that he only sent the Howler. When I was there, it took the two of us an hour just to convince him not to go confront you in person."

A chuckle escapes Fenrir's lips at the image of Ron Weasley attempting to physically intimidate him away from Harry. The wizard was tall, but way too lean to be a real challenge to a full-fledged werewolf. Looking into the deep emerald eyes gazing up at him questioningly, the man offers a soft smile.

"That Howler was quite amusin', though. Haven't heard one of those in ages."

"I'm glad you found it so hilarious."

At the annoyance seeping into Harry's voice, large arms wrap around the wizard's slim body. Fenrir quickly takes notice that the embrace seems to instantly soothe the smaller male as he smirks down at him.

"Well pup, doesn't matter how many Howlers your friend sends, I'm not going anywhere."

Harry yelps a bit in surprise when Fenrir hands feel their way along the planes of his body, the werewolf completely unapologetic in his touches. The wizard looks to the side to hide the light blush he can feel spreading across his cheeks.

"Fenrir, s-stop—"

"You know you like it, pup."

"I didn't say that I didn't like it. Just that we don't always have to. I mean, we've been going at it for days. Haven't you had enough?"

A large smirk spreads across the werewolf's face at the question.

"Can never have too much of a good thing, right?"

The two lean in, about to share a kiss, but before their lips even touch Fenrir and Harry are interrupted by a throat being cleared. From the doorway, Derrick and Scarlett smile at the blush forming on Harry's face and the annoyed look already on Fenrir's. As the wizard steps back from his overpowering mate, the werewolf couple instantly notice their alpha's claiming mark peeking out from underneath the wizard's sweater.

"Sorry to interrupt," begins the red-headed werewolf, her tone light. "I'm Scarlett by the way. I don't think that we got a chance to be properly introduced last time."

"Oh, err—right," the wizard comments, a note of embarrassment to his voice as he remembers that particular event within the whirlwind of events that unfolded that night. "I'm Harry. Harry Potter."

"Oh I know, hard to miss the scar and all."

"Right," Harry's hand unconsciously going to his forehead.

Sensing the wizard's unease at the subject, Derrick extends his hand to Harry with a warm smile. His grey eyes quickly take in the Head Auror's slim form, knowing that is belies the wizard's impressive magical abilities.

"I'm Derrick. It's good to properly meet you, Harry."

Shaking the offered hand, the bespectacled wizard smiles back.

"Thanks, you too. Um, I was just making a pot of tea, would either of you like one?"

"Oh, that sounds lovely," chimes Scarlett. "I'll help."

As the female werewolf goes to assist Harry, Fenrir and Derrick take a seat at the only table in the middle of the quaint cottage. It isn't long until the two dominant wolves are joined by their counterparts. Scarlett slides into the chair next to Derrick as Harry stands next to Fenrir.

"So, how's everything in the Forbidden Forest going?" asks the auror, sipping calmly at his tea.

The attempt to start conversation is met by a myriad of surprised looks appearing on the three werewolves' faces.

"You're a high level ministry official, Harry," confirms Derrick, leaning forward in his chair. "Don't you already know?"

"Not really. I mean, I get progress reports once a week that I have to review, but those are mostly just informational, letting the Ministry know the geography and terrain. Other then a few requisition forms, I don't know all that much. I am a bit jealous though. I spent a lot of time in the Forbidden Forest during my years at Hogwarts, it would be nice to see it when I'm not terrified for my life. To be honest, I would rather be out there with you all than at a desk, any day."

Not at all surprised by that statement, Fenrir leans back in his seat with a proud grin.

"It would be nicer havin' to report to you instead of havin' to deal with Kingsley and the rest of the Ministry on our case."

"Why are they on your case?" wonders Harry out loud, his brow creasing. "From the looks of it, you already have a quarter of the forest mapped out without any major incidents. That's pretty impressive seeing as the Forbidden Forest is practically a labyrinth if you don't know what you're doing. And if that isn't bad enough, Merlin knows what creatures are lurking in there. In second year, Ron and I barely escaped with our lives from Aragog and his clan of Acromantulas. Not to mention the thestrals, the hippogriffs, the forest trolls, I think there's even a few Blast-Ended Skrewts in there as well. But with the Forbidden Forest, there's really no way of knowing for sure."

Noticing a trio of raised eyebrows from the three werewolves seated before him, Harry pauses in his ramblings. He shyly rubs the back of his neck underneath their gazes.

"What? I just told you that I've spent a lot of time in those woods."

"Doin' what, exactly?"

At Fenrir's question, Harry's shyness melts away as he smirks mischievously. The werewolf not at all prepared for the arousing reaction that look triggers.

"Getting into trouble, what else?"

Looking down at the man sitting at the table, the Head Auror notices the letter that contained the Howler sticking out of Fenrir's pocket. Harry removes it with a frown as he recognizes Ron's scribbly handwriting.

"Merlin, I still can't believe Ron Weasley, of all people, sent a Howler. Sorry about my overprotective best friend."

"Stop apologizin', pup," replies Fenrir, pulling Harry into his lap. "When you live your life without carin' much what people think, it's bound to ruffle some feathers. I'm used to it. And besides, soon enough, neither of us will have to worry about what any wizard says."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Well, once this map of the Forbidden Forest is done, we'll go live with the pack," the man states, his chin resting on Harry's shoulder. "Good luck getting a Howler through those wards."

"Wait, you don't live around here?"

"Nope, my pack resides in the depths of the Russian Taiga," answers Fenrir. From his position, he is unable to see the look of surprise on Harry's face as he continues. "I'm only in the area for this Ministry work. Most werewolves don't like cities, not enough room to run about. Besides, the only way we can live without havin' to take that Wolfsbane swill is if we keep out of high-populated areas. Part of the agreement with the Ministry."

The news causes a palpable tension to settle in the room. Adjusting his glasses, the lone wizard clears his throat.

"Fenrir, I can't live in the middle of the woods, especially not in Russia," states Harry, turning around in the man's lap. "I'm head of the Auror department, I have to be able to get to London on a daily basis. Not to mention my family and friends are all in England. I don't want to have to apparate every where I go. Besides, with a baby, I'm not supposed to do it that often. At the very least, I'll need a fire place so I access the Floo Network, but in my condition, even that has its hazards."

"I'll take you then."

Taken aback by the overly-generous and out-of character offer, Harry smiles indulgently.

"Not that I don't appreciate it, Fenrir, but not even you could handle running about the continent all the time."

"Well, why don't you quit the Ministry?"

The suggestion is immediately met with a look from Harry Potter that threatens a severe cut off of some rather-pleasurable activities for Fenrir later on simply for suggesting it. Scarlett and Derrick watch this silent exchange, fascinated by the control the slim wizard has over their intimidating alpha.

"I'll quit the Ministry the same day you quit being the Alpha of your pack. I may not like it all the time, but I am a part of the Wizarding World, my life is here in England, Fenrir."

"But my pack isn't, Harry."

At the impasse, both men stare at each other. Both the stubborn wizard and unyielding werewolf seem equally steadfast in their positions. For the first time since they began their whirlwind(and perhaps ill-advised) romance, uncertainty enters their minds.

"It seems you two have some things to talk about, huh?" chimes in Scarlett from across the table. Derrick nodding along with her.

The wizard and the werewolf stare at the two with twin looks of annoyance as they come to terms with this first unforeseen road block.

Yet, despite these doubts, Fenrir tightens his grip on the wizard in his lap. Harry, in turn, smiles into his cup of tea at the reassuring gesture. After a little while, the werewolves begin talking about the next quadrant of the Forbidden Forest they have to explore. The wizard chimes in wtih helpful suggestion, all the while secure in the knowledge that he and Fenrir would figure out some way to work everything out.

* * *

THE NEXT DAY

* * *

A heavy sigh leaves Fenrir's lips as he plods through the fresh-fallen snow and towards his temporary home. The bare trees and empty silence around him do nothing to help the werewolf's simmering annoyance.

This mood isn't the fault of any particular person or event that transpired that day. It is just the usual anxious behavior that afflicts all werewolves right before the moon becomes full.

In preparation for this monthly event, the alpha had sent Scarlett and Derrick ahead to the pack. He and the team of aurors had spent most of the day just double-checking the sections they had already mapped and planning their next area to survey. The black-haired auror, that Fenrir now knew was named Abigail, had taken it upon herself to make a detailed list of the creatures suspected to live there along with providing her colleagues with the various methods to neutralize any possible threats.

Thankfully, it hadn't taken too long(the team of aurors perhaps sensing the werewolf's restlessness), allowing Fenrir to return home just as the sun is preparing to set for the day.

Opening the door to his cottage, Fenrir is taken aback by the changes the small house has gone through in the hours he had been away. To say that the house has been redecorated a bit, is a bit of an understatement. The interior has been cleaned from top to bottom, the cobwebs that have collected in the upper corners of the house have disappeared as well as the thin dust that has settled on the unused areas of the cottage. Here and there, the werewolf notices that some of Harry's personal effects have been moved in. And, unless the man is losing his mind, the one-room cottage has been magically expanded to accommodate the new additions to the house. Taking a whiff, the lycan is surprised to smell the delicious aroma of cooking meat underneath the cloying scent of magic.

"Oh! Err—Welcome home, Fenrir. You're home early."

At the greeting, Fenrir turns to see Harry coming out of one of the new backrooms. The frustration that has been picking at him most of the day recedes the second he spots his mate.

"Hullo, what went on here?"

"Well, let's just say that not everyone agrees with Ron's opinion of our mating. Hermione and Fleur helped me bring my things and taught me a few helpful spells to keep everything in order. Bill even taught me a useful charm to keep unwanted visitors at bay. It's their present to us. You actually just missed them."

Fenrir, a bit overwhelmed with all the new information and changes, looks around his once bachelor home. It starts to sink in that he is a mated man with a child on the way. Reading the werewolf's expression as disapproval, Harry's excitement deflates.

"You don't like it, do you? I had a feeling that it might be a bit soon. After all, we haven't even talked about me moving in or anyth—"

Interrupting the wizard's rambling, Fenrir lifts Harry's chin so that they lock eyes—intense blue meeting deep green.

"Just because I wasn't expectin' it, doesn't mean I don't like it. You're my mate, pup, of course I want you here."

The words make a small smile appear on the wizard's face.

"Um, I'll finish preparing dinner, then. I just figured how to properly work the oven. Am I wrong to assume that you like your steak cooked rare?"

"Wait, you cook?" inquires Fenrir, cocking his head to the side. "Without a wand?"

"Yes. Is that a problem?"

"Not at all, it's refreshin' actually. Most wizards I know rely on magic to do everythin' for 'em. It's like they don't know how to use their own hands."

"You forget, for the first eleven years of my life I didn't even know I was a wizard," replies "The Boy Who Lived" as he makes his way towards the kitchen, the werewolf following obediently after him. "I learned how to do everything the muggle way first, then again my aunt and uncle made me."

"What do you mean by that, pup?"

"Oh, err—I just did a lot of chores around the house. One of them, was cooking dinner. Uncle Vernon liked steaks, a lot of steaks actually, complete with baked potatoes and peas. So, I learned the second I was tall enough to reach the stove."

Unbeknownst to Harry, the man behind him has only been half-listening to his anecdote. Fenrir might have asked more questions if his attention was focused on his mate's words instead of his body.

Watching the wizard mind the contents within the pots on the stove, an intense, almost primal, gaze settles in the man's gaze. Fenrir is hypnotized by the entrancing movements of subtle hips and a perky bottom. Not sure if he simply finds the wizard that attractive or if the moon is influencing him, the werewolf finds himself drawn towards the oblivious Harry. Fenrir keeps moving closer until he is right behind the other male, startling the wizard a bit when he places his large hands on slim hips. From his place behind Harry, piercing blue eyes glance into a small pot containing bright, green peas.

"Never much liked vegetables."

"No one _loves_ them, but they're good for you. After all, you can't eat meat all the time, Fenrir."

Harry's breath hitches when a large palm begins rubbing slow circles over their growing child.

"The pup's not even born yet and you already sound like a mother."

At the comment, an annoyed grumble leaves the wizard's lips. Fenrir leans down, his nose burying itself in dark locks to scent his mate. Pleased by the smell that is all Harry yet laced with a hint of his own musk, the werewolf smiles.

"So, if I eat all my vegetables, do I get dessert?"

"I didn't make dess—_ah!_,"

Harry's words turn into a soft moan as the werewolf begins to lick the exposed skin of the wizard's throat. Not that the Head Auror would ever admit it, but he can't help but find himself turned on by the man's primal behavior.

"Since you cleaned up so well, I'm goin' to have to scentmark everything all over again, including you, pup . . . Hmm, _especially_ you."

Running his nose along the column of flesh, Fenrir finds his mating mark on the pale skin. A rumble of approval reverberates through his chest. Feeling the vibration, Harry starts to turn around. However, he is stopped as large hands keep him firmly in place. Viridian eyes widen a bit, Harry's first instinct to fight his way out of the tight hold. However, after quickly realizing that the man completely outmatches him in strength, the wizard leans back into the embrace—confident that Fenrir won't hurt him. He leans his head to one side, Harry exposing more of his throat in what he hopes to be a non-threatening and submissive gesture. The action is rewarded with a low rumble of approval as the man starts to slowly lick the soft flesh.

"F-Fenrir? Are you okay?"

For a few moments, the question is left hanging in the air. Harry feels the man inhaling and exhaling a few times before his inquiry is finally answered.

"Sorry pup. When it's this close to the full moon, instincts get triggered at the oddest times," explains Fenrir. He loosens his hold on Harry just before placing an apologetic kiss to his shoulder. "I should've warned you. I've been snapping at your aurors all day."

Taking a deep breath, Harry can't help the small grin from appearing on his face from his mate's reassurance.

"It's alright," replies the wizard. Now satisfied that it's safe to move away from the man, Harry starts plating dinner for the both of them. "So, how many days are there until the next full moon?"

"Two, maybe three."

Halting in his movement, Harry looks up at the werewolf with a serious expression.

"So, what should I do?"

The seemingly-valid question makes Fenrir raise his eyebrow in confusion.

"What do you mean? Just stay here like you've been doin'."

"But you'll be in your other form," Harry starts, carefully choosing his words. "Will that be safe?"

Taking the wizard's hand, Fenrir gently tugs his mate closer. Harry, intrigued by the gesture, puts up no fight and closes the distance between them. The werewolf brings the pale hand to his lips, lightly nipping Harry's fingertips. The gentle gesture is so unexpectedly intimate, that green eyes widen in shock.

"You will always be safe around me, regardless what form I take. You're my mate, you're covered in my scent and you're carrying our cub. It's my job to protect the two of you."

Letting his words sink in for a moment, Fenrir's eyes then look up to stare in still-widened emerald ones.

"Besides, if you left in your current condition, I'd just track you down. Like I warned you before, werewolves are _real_ possessive, especially when it comes to their pregnant mates."

"Alright, I get it. I'll stay. We wouldn't want you terrorizing London, I suppose," the joking tone belies Harry's slight embarrassment as his hand is still in Fenrir's. "So, what do you usually do when you . . . err, turn?"

"Usually, I return to the pack with Derrick and Scarlet," informs Fenrir, temporarily releasing his mate. "The pack prefers to change together, but they be alright without me. This time I'll stay close to you. Probably stick to the woods around here and fill up the store house with some fresh venison. You'll be cravin' more meat the further along you get, anyway."

Harry takes a moment to digest all of this new information. Carrying their plates over to the set table, the wizard places them down with a soft clink. Both men then take a seat across from each other at the wooden table.

"You don't have to stay here with me. I'll be alright by myself for a few days if you really want to go back to your pack."

As the auror speaks, Fenrir watches him get everything settled for dinner. Without asking, Harry starts pouring water into each of their glasses and places a slice of warm bread on each of their plates from the cloth-covered basket between their plates. An amused smirk appears on the werewolf's face as he witnesses the surprisingly-domestic side of Harry Potter.

"Not that I don't think you can take care of yourself, but I'm not leavin' you here alone," Fenrir finally states, as he digs into the perfectly-cooked steak on his plate. "Mated werewolves are s'possed to spend the full moon together with their mate."

Harry is taken aback by the unsaid sentiment in the man's words. Fenrir hadn't worded it like a command or even as an argument. From the man's tone, it seems like more of a romantic suggestion. Thinking it over in his head, the wizard supposes that it would be nice to spend the night with the man that is his mate—even if he will be in canine form. Harry actually finds himself oddly looking forward to sharing intimacy of another kind with the man across from him.

"Alright, Fenrir. We'll spend the full moon together."

* * *

TWO DAYS LATER

* * *

When the full moon is ready to appear in the sky a few nights later, Fenrir is standing alone in a clearing. He figures it would be safer to shift away from Harry, allowing his wolf to discover his mate on his own terms. Standing amid the snow-covered woods surrounding Hogsmeade, the man listens to the wind traveling through the trees as he waits.

As the clouds above part, the moon in all her glory bathes the dark forest and her loyal follower. The moonlight hits his body, instantly setting into motion the transformation from man to wolf. Fenrir closes his eyes as he prepares to embrace the familiarity of lycanthropy. Bones break and reform themselves as muscles shift to support the new body of Fenrir Greyback. Thick fur sprouts from the man's skin as he rears his head back to let out a long howl. The sound signaling to all the presence of the alpha werewolf.

Mere moments later, an imposing grey wolf stands in the place of the man. Its hot breath materializes in the cold air as the wolf's piercing gaze studies his environment—the forest infinitely different through his canine senses. Sniffing the air around him, unable to find his own scent markers, the canine then trots off to mark his territory.

It is well past midnight by the time the werewolf makes its way back to the small cottage that is acting as his makeshift den. Along the way, he has managed to take down a well-built stag. Crimson blood stains the pristine snow as the wolf drags its carcass behind him. Fenrir tosses the meat into the storehouse(the permanently cold weather of Hogsmeade turning it into a convenient outdoor freezer). He makes a note to properly portion it off later once he regains the use of opposable thumbs. Not worried about the blood attracting other predators, the wolf trots up the stairs and pushes open the door, the locking mechanism activating behind him.

Licking the tasty blood off of his muzzle, the wolf enters the dark cottage. The only light comes from the dying fire and the bright moonlight streaming through the windows. Walking over to fireplace, the wolf shakes off the snow that is sticking to his fur and inbetween the crevices of his large paws. Once comfortably dry, the canine breathes in the additional scent in the air. It isn't a threatening one, so the wolf doesn't act on it immediately. The lingering scent simply suggests that the owner has been present in the alpha's temporary home for some time. Smelling his own aroma wrapped around it, an instant recognition returns to the wolf.

_**Mate . . .**_

Padding across the room, the wolf follows the intriguing scent. Fenrir is greeted by the sight of his mate safely asleep on their large bed. The moonlight that cuts through the darkness seems to focus right on the pale body. Furred ears attune themselves to the steady rise and fall of Harry's chest signaling that all is well. Nearing the smaller male, the wolf stops in his tracks when a peculiar scent hits his nose.

_**My mate is with cub!**_

With an excited wag of his tail, the large canine hops onto the furniture with a grace that also shows off the strength contained in the wolf's powerful body. Careful not to disturb the sleeping wizard, he gently lies down beside him. Oblivious to the additional company, Harry continues to sleep on his side and buried underneath the thick blanket. His dark hair once-again tousled by sleep, sharply contrasts the bed's white pillows. Trademark glasses are folded neatly on the bedside table within arm's reach. Scenting the wizard along the curve of his neck, the wolf gently licks the soft skin. The tongue bath seems to wake Harry up as he turns his body over towards Fenrir. Cracking an eye open, sleepy emerald eyes don't seem to be too shocked by the large wolf taking up most of the bed.

"Did you have fun, Fenrir?"

At his name, the alpha wolf licks him again. Harry smiles.

"I'm glad you're back," the tired auror states with a yawn. "Never realized how drafty this cottage gets at night."

With those words, the wizard snuggles closer to the warmth of the werewolf beside him. The large canine is pleased by his mate's reaction to his presence. Once Harry is settled, Fenrir adjusts himself so that his head is resting lightly on the wizard's stomach.

"Never thought that this would be my life."

Raising his head to look at Harry, the wolf has what could pass as confusion on his face. A pale hand reaches out and starts to scratch behind the wolf's ears, remembering that Fang liked to be scratched there as well. The wolf's head lowers in pleasure as the touch works its magic.

"Granted, just about most of my life has not gone the way I thought it would. However, pregnant and mated to Fenrir Greyback are definitely noteworthy surprises."

The statement earns the wizard an acknowledging rumble from the werewolf. Harry smiles at the response before scratching the tricky area that is behind the wolf's ear and extends to the back of his jaw. The attention makes the wolf inch closer as something close to a purr escapes the canine's muzzle.

"You know, when I first found out that I was pregnant, I wasn't all that scared. I had questions of course, but a part of me was a little glad. I mean, I always wanted a family, even if I'm not getting it the way I expected. More than anything, I was just worried about the baby. I mean, he's not even born yet and he's going to have to deal with being the son of Harry Potter, "The Boy Who Lived" and "The Saviour of the Wizarding World". There are people out there that aren't going to like that he's half werewolf and then there's going to be people that just won't like that he's half wizard."

A sound from the wolf catches the wizard's attention. Looking into the intense eyes of Fenrir Greyback in full lupine form comforts Harry, almost as if urging him to continue. His hand resumes petting the wolf's head, his fingers running through the surprisingly soft fur.

"Anyway, I guess being pregnant is making me a bit more sentimental. I mean, it's still my baby, so I'll love him regardless. It's just that, it sort of hurts that he's going to be disliked and judged just for being who he is, just for who his parents are. Thank Merlin, Teddy doesn't have to deal with that too much. I don't think our baby will have the same luck, unfortunately. Then again, Fenrir, you and I are very different than Remus and Tonks."

With a bittersweet smile, Harry eyes get a far-off look to them as his thoughts become internal. The wolf looks up, unsure how to soothe the worry etched on his mate's features. A heavy sigh escapes the wizard's lips as his eyes refocus on the concerned wolf staring up at him.

"Alright, enough of that for one night, hmm? Let's get some sleep. Morning will come all too soon and I have an early meeting at the Ministry tomorrow."

Moving a bit to adjust the blankets around him, Harry settles back into the pillows. Just as he gets comfortable and closes his eyes, a long tongue laps along his cheek.

"Goodnight to you, too, Fenrir," adds Harry, a grin tugging at his lips.

With a satisfied huff, the wolf once again rests his head on Harry's stomach. The steady rise and fall lulls the canine into a light sleep, his sharp ears trained for any sign of danger to his mate and unborn cub.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**

* * *

**This was by far, my favorite chapter to type as well as the hardest. So, please let me know if you all enjoyed it!**

**Until next week,**

**RENKA**


	5. Reassurances

**Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix**

**Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations**

**Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I'm basing a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie ****_Fools Rush In _****starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've decided to adjust into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.**

**This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.**

**I apologize for the unusually long wait time between this chaptersand Chapter 4. I appreciate all of you that read and I enjoy all the feedback I get from you. Unfortunately, some things came up and I had to divert my attention back to work that pays the bills. But, I'm back now, and to make up for it there will be a DOUBLE UPDATE! Chapter 6 will be up sometime in the next 24 hours.**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

**CHAPTER FIVE - Reassurances**

* * *

Fenrir Greyback knows the instant that Harry returns home from his work at the Ministry of Magic. A smile tugs at his lips as his nose catches the wizard's scent.

Outside their cottage, the large werewolf is busying himself by splitting wood for the fireplace. The menial labor clears his head as the cold winter air brushes against the burly man's skin—the sensation oddly refreshing. Once the log he's been working on is split into smaller ones, he throws them on the pile beside him. Fenrir then bends down to pick up the iron wedge once again and places it into the crevice of another large log. Continuing the steady downward swing of the sledgehammer in his hands, he starts splitting the new log on his chopping block. It isn't long after this before Harry makes his way out of the cottage. Bundled up, the wizard plods his way through the heavy snow towards Fenrir.

"Hello," greets the wizard, watching the man work.

"Hullo to you too, pup."

"Fen, how on earth are you not frozen solid right now?" inquires Harry with a small frown.

A smirk appears on Fenrir's rugged face as he takes a minute to regard his own attire. While the wizard is in a thick wool coat and scarf with knit gloves covering his hands, the werewolf is wearing a pair of worn jeans and black tank. The man even has the nerve to wipe off some sweat from his brow as he stares down at his mate.

"Werewolves have high body heat, pup," replies Fenrir, resting the long handle of the sledgehammer on his shoulders. "You of all people should know that."

Remembering all the nights he has spent curling up next to the man, Harry makes a sound of acknowledgement. The wizard takes a seat on one of the larger logs nearby as his green eyes watch the larger male return to his work. With the exception of the wisps of warm breath now visible, Fenrir seems perfectly content in the freezing weather.

"The snow really doesn't bother you at all, does it?"

Before answering the question, Fenrir tosses the now split wood onto the large pile by the back door. The pieces make a satisfying clack as they join their brethren.

"Not really. Besides workin' out here gets the blood pumpin'. Can't stay cooped up too long before I want to do somethin' _physical_."

"Er-yeah," replies Harry, noticing the undertone. He pries his eyes away from the entrancing sight of the well-muscled man effortlessly moving another heavy log to be split. "So, how was your day?"

"Long. Glad to be done with it."

Smirking at the short, yet informative answer, Harry adjusts his scarf.

"I can relate."

The wizard is surprised when he suddenly feels a large hand gently tilt his face upward. Viridian eyes lock with sharp blue as Fenrir looks him over. The intensity of the werewolf's gaze leaves Harry speechless.

"Don't over due it, pup," states Fenrir after a few moments. "I don't want to hear that you collapsed somewhere."

The concern in his mate's voice makes Harry smile.

"I'm fine. Besides, I told Kingsley about my err-_situation_ and he's almost as bad as you. Trust me, I won't be doing anything remotely exciting until after the baby's first birthday from the looks of things."

Harry's words seem to satisfy the werewolf who removes his hand from the wizard's face. Crouching down in the snow, the alpha wolf makes himself level with the growing bump underneath Harry's thick coat. Fenrir places his hand on top of his unborn child with nothing short of awed reverence as he feels it shifting beneath his palm. It has only been recently that the man has been able to feel the baby move, but it is quickly becoming one of his favorite activities.

"Thank you."

Getting the impression that the two words aren't heard very often from the alpha werewolf, Harry is taken aback. His viridian eyes widen a bit as they stare down at the imposing man before him.

"For what, exactly?"

"I know you're puttin' up with a lot for the sake of carryin' our cub. Just wanted to make sure you know your efforts are appreciated, is all."

"Fenrir, I think you do a rather satisfactory job of showing me how much you appreciate it," answers Harry with a grin. He reaches a hand out to run his fingers through Fenrir's grey-streaked hair. "Besides, I want this baby just as much as you do. It's not that much trouble, really."

Still crouched before his mate, Fenrir smirks at the blush of embarrassment crossing the wizard's pale face. A cold breeze flows by making Harry shiver a bit as he adjust his scarf while the werewolf stands up to his full height. Emerald eyes widen with fascination by the fluid movement of such a large body.

"Are you doing anythin' tonight?" asks Fenrir, noticing the staring from his mate.

"Not really, why?"

"There's somethin' I want to show you. I think you'll like it."

The comment makes Harry raise an eyebrow as he stares at the man quizzically.

"Fenrir, is this the beginning of one of your horribly-inappropriate, bad jokes?"

The werewolf can't help the deep chuckle that leaves his lips as he picks up the sledgehammer he had discarded moments before.

"Course not."

"That's too bad," replies Harry, leaning forward on his seat. "I could've used a good laugh."

"Just be ready to leave when the moon rises, pup."

"Alright. Where are we going?"

At the wizard's question, Fenrir smirks mischievously.

"You'll find out soon enough."

* * *

THAT NIGHT

* * *

The moonlight barely peeks through the thick foliage of the Forbidden Forest. A sniff of the air, and Fenrir instantly identifies a few centaurs as well as some stags grazing nearby. Watching his mate make his way through the dark forests just ahead of him, the tip of his wand lighting the way, Fenrir feels a smile tug on his lips. Harry meanders through the Forbidden Forest like it's his backyard. The aurors that the alpha wolf is currently charged with protecting are always a bit skittish in the sea of trees. The inexperienced wizards depend a bit too much on their lycan companions to navigate as well as protect them.

Harry, on the other hand, is confident yet wary in his strides through the ominous forest. He doesn't flinch at every noise and rustle of leaves. The auror keeps himself alert without emanating the fear that attracts the dark and less friendly creatures of the Forbidden Forest. Fenrir supposes that ease developed from the many "adventures" his mate has had in the dark woods that surround Hogwarts. And as much as the werewolf likes the adventurous side of his wizard, it makes him worry as well.

In the six weeks that have passed since the two have been officially mated, Harry has not slowed down at all(even with the added weight of their quickly-growing child). The Head Auror has been doing his normal duties at the Ministry while simultaneously attending private appointments at Saint Mungo's and preparing for the baby. Sometimes just watching the wizard makes Fenrir tired.

Fenrir does everything he can to ease the wizard's burdens as Harry won't just outright take help. Innocuous actions—like making sure that the house is well stocked with Harry's favorite foods and keeping the cottage warm—are the only ways the man is allowed to take care of the headstrong auror without an argument. Yet on the other hand, the werewolf has absolutely no problem forcibly carrying his pregnant mate to bed from time to time for much needed rest.

"Fenrir, where are we going?" calls out Harry, the wizard stopping in his tracks.

Within a few strides the man catches up to the younger man. Scenting the air once again, Fenrir turns to head off of their current path.

"This way. It's just a bit further."

With a questioning look, Harry dutifully follows after the werewolf. The two walk for a few minutes more until they reach an open area of the forest. The moonlight fills the open gap of trees and illuminates the tall grasses in the small meadow.

"Keep low and keep quiet pup," whispers Fenrir before Harry can say anything. "And put your wand out."

Following the directions, the wizard lowers his body to join his companion on the soft ground of the ancient forests. With a mutter of "Nox" from Harry's lips, the wand is extinguished. The tall grasses around them cover both men rather well while allowing the couple to look out over the empty clearing.

It takes a few moments of anxious silence, but from the darkness of the Forbidden Forest walks out a lone unicorn. Its steps are hesitant as the silver stallion makes his way fully into the grasses. He dutifully looks around for any threat. Finding nothing, he turns his head back to the darkened forest he just emerged from. And after a low whinny, four unicorn mares make their way into the meadow followed by two newborn foals.

Watching the herd of the magnificent creatures, their silvery manes and tell-tale horns shining in moonlight, Harry's eyes widen. Keeping himself low, he turns to Fenrir surprised to find that the man's intense gaze is already on him.

"Fenrir, they're amazing."

"Derrick and I found traces of them earlier today, so I figured they'd still be in the area."

Harry turns his gaze back out to the grazing herd. "The Boy Who Lived" is mesmerized by the graceful equines, smirking a bit as the two foals chase each other around the small meadow in play.

"I've only seen a unicorn once. Unfortunately, its blood was being used to sustain Voldemort," recalls Harry with a regretful sigh at the memory. "I still can't understand how anyone could kill something so . . . pure."

"Figures," whispers Fenrir harshly, his tone carrying disgust with Voldemort's past actions. "Even I never dared to kill a unicorn. Not worth the curse it carries."

Reaching a hand out to place it atop the other man's much larger one, Harry offers a small yet sincere smile.

"Thank you for bringing me here."

"Like I said, I'd thought you'd like it," replies the werewolf, the deep timbre barely concealing the affection for his mate. "It's not often you see unicorn herds around these parts. The thestrals usually take up most of the area."

At the mention of the winged, skeletal creatures, a fond smile appears on Harry's lips.

"Thestrals always remind me of my friend, Luna Lovegood."

The name instantly reminds Fenrir of the photograph he had seen at Ron and Hermione Weasley's home. Remembering the pale, blonde-haired woman in the picture, the werewolf looks over to Harry.

"This Luna, you and her are close?"

"Yeah, you could say that. During the war and everything, she always found a way to cheer me up, no matter how horrible things got. Especially when Sirius, my godfather, died. At the time, Luna was one of the few people who understood what it was like to lose a loved one so unexpectedly."

Sensing his mate's sadness, Fenrir has no idea what to say. Offering the only comfort he knows how to, he pulls the wizard into his arms. Harry is startled by the sudden embrace but quickly calms as he is settled against a warm, broad chest. Once the auror is situated in his lap, the werewolf rests his chin on top of the dark hair. The unicorns look up at the sudden movement. Yet, sensing no killing intent from the couple, the small herd makes no move to run.

For a while, the two mates stay in their positions. Harry takes comfort in the embrace as Fenrir thinks over his mate's experiences—at least, what the wizard has divulged to him.

"I can't wait to get you to the pack and away from all this wizarding shite," murmurs Fenrir as he holds Harry close. The man lowers his head a bit to inhale the soft scent wafting from the wizard in his arms.

"Fen, I know you mean well, but I'm never going to be completely free from the wizarding world. No matter how far away you take me," Harry states, smiling at the man's possessiveness. "Besides, a part of me would still miss England, Diagon Alley, especially. There's a great restaurant there I'd think you'd like. They have a decent ale that I can't wait to taste again after the baby's born."

Fully aware of Harry's subtle attempt to sidestep the issue, Fenrir runs with the change in conversation.

"Ale sounds nice, but you should try the vodka they have in Russia. Nice and smooth with a strong kick at the end."

Turning around in the man's lap, Harry raises himself up a bit—just enough to lock eyes with Fenrir. The green bespectacled gaze takes it's time perusing the man's well-defined face.

"Let's go home," suggests Harry suddenly. His hand already disappearing into the folds of Fenrir's coat for the port key that will transport them directly to their cottage.

"Already?" the man asks with a raised eyebrow at the sudden request. "You don't like it out here or somethin'?"

"No that's not it. I love it out here. And as romantic as this setting is, I'd prefer to be in our bed when I show you my err-_appreciation _for bringing me here."

At the wanderings of a smaller hand across his chest paired with the light kisses now being pressed along his jaw, Fenrir grins. The wizard's somewhat awkward attempt at seduction makes the werewolf smirk with its unintentional effectiveness. As brave as Harry is in the face of danger, he still retains a bit of his juvenile shyness when it comes to talking about anything sexual. This trait however fades away the second the wizard is worked up enough to no longer be self conscious of his actions. A task that Fenrir has no problem helping Harry out with.

Arousal grows and begins to travel through the werewolf with his mate's attentions. Then again, the man has never had any complaints with this method of distraction. If Harry wants to use sex to make the man forget the argument-inducing path of their conversation, who is Fenrir to deny him?

"You read my mind, pup."

Wrapping an arm around Harry's slim waist, the werewolf activates the port key and transports them back home. The unicorns look up at the flare of magic but then quickly return to grazing in the moonlit meadow.

* * *

A WEEK OR SO LATER

* * *

The snowy village of Hogsmeade is bustling as its residents finish their daily errands. Wizards and witches of all shapes and sizes enter the small shops and local eateries lining the snow-covered streets. The Three Broomsticks is crowded with its loyal, rowdy patrons that come in to escape the cold with a warm butterbeer. Walking by the establishment, Harry Potter continues his conversation with the red-headed werewolf beside him, the scent of the sweet drink tempting his tastebuds.

"It really was beautiful out there in the heart of the woods. There's just endless nature around you and those unicorns were breathtaking. I completely understand why Fenrir loves the depths of the forest as much as he does."

"I figured he'd take you out there," comments Scarlett with a knowing smile. "I bet the two of you had some fun afterwards, eh?"

Blushing a bit at the insinuation, Harry clears his throat. The woman beside him chuckles at the expression, knowing instantly that she's right.

"Umm, Scarlett,"begins the wizard with slight hesitation, "Since that night, Fenrir keeps mentioning the pack and his life back in the Taiga. I think he's a bit homesick. Do you think thatmaybe he's trying to hint that he wants to go back?"

Sensing the worry in Harry's question, the red-headed werewolf smiles reassuringly.

"Well, as long as I've known him, Fenrir is fond of anywhere he can run wild and get a good drink. However, he is an alpha so he's going to want to return to his pack eventually, wherever they may be. Sure the pack doesn't completely rely on him, but we still look up to him as our leader. He has responsibilities."

"I know, and it's not like I want him to give them up or anything," states Harry, his face reflecting the seriousness of his words. "I just wish he understood that I have responsibilities too."

Reaching into his Honeydukes bag, the pregnant wizard pulls out a chocolate frog to nibble on as they walk. He pockets the collectible card with a smile as he sees the familiar face of Albus Dumbledore on its flat surface.

"I'm a wizard, I'm not a werewolf. Clearly, I don't understand everything that happens in a pack. I just don't know how to go about being a good mate for Fenrir."

Scarlett watches Harry speak with a fond look on her face. His eyes are downcast as the wizard retreats into his thoughts with a look of worry on his features. The woman places a supportive hand on his shoulder, causing bright green eyes to look up.

"Harry, you are doing just fine. Besides, there's no wrong or right way to be a mate, especially to an alpha like Fenrir Greyback. Just be yourself, after all, that's why Fenrir claimed you in the first place, right? And don't worry, you'll get the hang of werewolf pack dynamics. It wasn't easy for me to get either."

"But you're a werewolf. I thought that hierarchy was based on instinct, doesn't it come naturally to you?"

"Well, it was a bit different for me," begins the red head, smirking at Harry's confusion. "I wasn't born a werewolf and I wasn't attacked by one. I chose to be a werewolf in order to be with Derrick, I let him bite me under a full moon."

"You _chose_ lycanthropy?" Harry asks, lowering his voice to avoid drawing unwanted attention to their conversation.

"Yes. At the time, it still wasn't normal for a witch to live with a werewolf. There was still a lot of prejudice and fear, on both sides. The way I saw it, it was either I had to bear with the pain of leaving Derrick or bear with the pain of his bite. I made my choice, rather easily in fact. Harry, you have to decide for yourself what you are willing to do to be with Fenrir."

Thinking over the woman's words, Harry becomes silent.

"Do you ever regret it, Scarlett?"

"What? Being a werewolf?"

"No," the wizard quickly clarifies. "What I meant was, do you regret sacrificing so much to be with Derrick?"

"I don't think of it as sacrificing anything. Derrick never asked me to become a werewolf, he already loved me as I was. And even as a werewolf, I still have my wand for the occasional spell and I still see my family from time to time. Now, I'm not saying that you should ask Fenrir to bite you or anything, Harry. Nowadays, plenty of werewolves mate wizards and witches without turning them. While there are still prejudices, it isn't nearly as bad as things used to be a few decades ago. Didn't Lupin marry a witch without biting her?"

"Yes, he did," confirms Harry, remembering his pseudo-godfather. "Remus and Tonks were very happy together, they loved each other so much. Their son Teddy is proof of that."

"Exactly. You and Fenrir will be just fine. I can tell that the alpha is completely crazy about you. And to be honest, I can't wait to see him as a father."

The comment makes Harry chuckle as he subconsciously rubs a hand over his abdomen. A few well-cast charms hide the wizard's swollen stomach as well as protect the growing baby from the passersby on the street. As they turn a corner, Harry and Scarlett find Derrick walking towards them. The tall man's face breaks into an easy smile as he spots his mate as well as his alpha's strolling along. Making his way through the mass of people, he approaches Scarlett and leans in to share a quick greeting kiss.

"Hello, I've been looking for you two. It's hard to distinguish scents with all these people filling the streets," begins the beta werewolf. "Harry, Fenrir wanted me to tell you that he'd be a bit late. He had to go to the Ministry to talk with Shacklebolt."

"That's right, Kingsley mentioned that he wanted to talk with Fenrir the other day," Harry recalls, a thoughtful expression on the young man's face. "The Ministry is very anxious to have a complete, comprehensive map of the Forbidden Forest. It requires a lot of diplomacy to allow your group into the territories of so many magical creatures."

The trio is suddenly interrupted when a dark-haired witch runs up to Derrick, in her hands is a heavy and ancient looking book.

"Derrick, I need to see Mr. Greyback immediately! It's important!"

"Abigail, can it wait? Fenrir's in a meeting at the Ministry at the moment. Who knows when he'll get out of it."

"But it's really important!" insists the witch. "I think I found out something amazing that could change everything we thought about the Forbidden Forest! I just couldn't wait to tell him about it."

"What's going on, Abigail?" questions Harry, noticing how crestfallen the witch becomes upon hearing that Fenrir is otherwise occupied.

Turning her attention away from Derrick, Abigail is surprised to see her boss standing beside Scarlett. In her excitement, she had completely missed the powerful wizard.

"Head Auror Potter? What are you doing out here, sir?" the witch inquires as she nervously straightens out her robes. "Was there a problem in the last report?"

"No, it was perfectly fine, as always. And Abigail, I've told you before you don't have to call me 'sir'," replies the auror with a good-natured smirk. "It makes me feel old."

"Oh, yes, of course. I apologize."

Taking a moment, Harry thinks over what exactly to tell the younger auror. Abigail is a clever witch(she often reminds him of a younger version of Hermione), so he knows that lying is an insult to her intelligence. However, he still isn't exactly comfortable with letting her know the exact details of the relationship that he has with Fenrir Greyback.

"I'm actually staying with Fenrir," divulges the wizard, answering the witch's question. "For a while now, I've been a bit curious to see your progress in the Forbidden Forest myself and Fenrir was kind enough to give me a bit of a private tour the other night. It's very impressive that you all have made such headway in such a short amount of time."

"Oh, I didn't know that you and were friends."

"Yeah, we're Mates," replies Harry, the double meaning of the term making a grin appear on his face as well as the two werewolves beside him. He subconsciously rubs the side of his neck, touching Fenrir's claiming mark that is still embedded in his skin.

Unfortunately, the action shifts the collar of the Head Auror and fully reveals the claiming mark adorning his pale skin. Spotting the mark on Harry's throat, Abigail blanches considerably as she recognizes what the bruise means. Then again, after spending so much time with lycanthropes it doesn't take much for her mind to make the connection.

"Oh! That's-ah, wonderful," comments the witch awkwardly after realizing that she was openly staring at Harry's throat.

"Abigail, you said that you had a discovery you wanted to share with us?" prompts Derrick, effectively changing the subject.

"Oh right! Well, I was looking over some older maps of the Forbidden Forest, trying to compare their notes to ours."

"And, what is the issue?"

"Well, as most of us know, the Forbidden Forest is ancient. Some of the trees have been dated as thousands of years old, some are even from Merlin's time. However, there are new, completely different tree species in the forest that are as young as a century or two. There are even a few species of trees and shrubbery that are native to areas of the Americas and remote parts of Asia, obviously these plants did not come to the Forbidden Forest naturally. These trees were purposefully transplanted here and over time they have massively changed the ecosystem."

"Meaning?"

"Meaning that the Forbidden Forest isn't a natural occurrence," replies the witch, finally coming to her conclusion(much to Derrick's relief). "It was specifically cultivated. And I think that it was designed that way in an effort to attract certain magical creatures."

"Why?"Scarlett inquires, voicing the question on everyone's mind.

"Well, the most logical answer is to protect Hogwarts."

"But the school has all sorts of wards and spells to protect it," comments Harry, taking a moment to think. "Unless, the creatures in the Forbidden Forest are supposed to be a backup plan in case those spells are negated."

"Exactly!" Abigail exclaims with excitement all over her soft features. "Working on this theory, I sent some samples to Hogwarts' Herbology teacher, Professor Longbottom, who has confirmed my findings. He even sent me this book for reference."

Opening the book in her arms, Abigail begins flipping through the aged pages. Apparently, the tome is an ancient guide to magical plant life.

"The tall grasses within the Forbidden Forest are a favorite of thestrals and unicorns as well. Some of the tree species are known to be favorites of Grindylows. Even the geography of the land is excellent for werewolf packs as the area has a vast underground cave system. Not to mention the trolls and other creatures attracted by the. . . "

As Abigail continues on, Harry, Scarlett, and Derrick are silent as they process all the information being told to them by the witch. Multiple looks of surprise are on each of their faces, however the trio all seem to come to the same conclusion.

"So basically, you're saying that the Ministry made this forest and is enlisting us to fix their runaway problem?" questions Derrick, before a smirk appears on his face. "Fenrir will just love to hear this."

"Well, I didn't say that the Ministry planted it initially," Abigail protests, a blush on her face. "By the look of things, I think parts of the Forbidden Forest were actually planted around the time Hogwarts was erected in the 10th century. The Forbidden Forest itself is ancient, there's no way to date the exact time it started to grow."

Harry turns to the clever witch with a smile.

"Good work, Abigail."

"T-thank you, sir. I mean, Harry."

* * *

LATER THAT EVENING

* * *

When Harry makes his way into the cottage, a sigh of relief leaves his lips at the warmth inside the small home. He is a bit disheartened to find that Fenrir has still not returned from his business at the Ministry. Shedding his layers of clothes until he is in a long sleeved t-shirt and jeans, he makes his way to the kitchen. The wizard puts away his purchases before immediately heading towards the bedroom. As the pregnancy continues on, the "Boy Who Lived" finds himself becoming tired much quicker than usual.

So, intending to only doze off for about twenty minutes or so, the wizard sinks into the welcoming, yet empty, bed. He removes his glasses, placing them gently on the bedside table before snuggling under the blankets.

When he opens his eyes next, Harry is surprised to awaken to a darkened cottage. His twenty-minute nap had apparently transformed into a four-hour one.

However, Harry is more surprised to find himself lying on top of a sleeping Fenrir. The wizard's cheek is pressed against the firm warmth of the man's chest, his chest hair ticking the sensitive skin. Deep in sleep, the werewolf snores away, making a chuckle escape Harry's lips. Slowly, the wizard raises his head. It takes a few moments for emerald eyes to adjust to the low light as they take in the man's features that have been softened by sleep. From a quick look around their bedroom, the werewolf had returned home from the Ministry and simply joined his sleeping mate in bed. Fenrir had not even bothered to aim his clothing anywhere near the laundry hamper. Moving slowly, the wizard starts to raise his body in order to move off of the large man.

"Where are you goin', pup?" grumbles out the man, his speech slurred a bit from sleep.

For a moment, the wizard is speechless by the reaction that the rough quality of Fenrir's voice arouses. It takes a few breaths to steady himself before settling back on the man beneath him.

"I was just going to my side of the bed, that's all."

"Why?"

"Well, it can't be too comfortable to sleep with me on top of you."

At the comment, Fenrir wraps his arm tighter around the wizard and settles him back on his chest.

"I was doin' just fine until you started to move around. Besides, if I didn't want you here, I wouldn't have put you here."

"Oh, Alright then."

With that settled, Harry relaxes completely on the man's chest. A large hand begins running up and down his back, easing him back into sleep. As his eyes start to drift close, Harry asks the questions that have been on his mind since he woke up.

"So, how long have you been back?"

"A few hours," grumbles out Fenrir.

"Oh, did everything go alright with Kingsley?"

The quasi-innocent question makes the werewolf smile. Running his hand through the unruly locks of his mate he cracks an eye open.

"Heard about that, did you?"

"Yeah. Word travels fast around the Ministry of Magic."

Fenrir chuckles at the comment, knowing the truth of those words. However, as his mind shifts to his meeting with Kingsley, he takes a deep breath—effectively rising the wizard on his chest with the effort. Harry smirks at the movement as the man's breathing returns to its normal pace.

"It's nothin' to worry about. He just wanted to make sure everythin' is on track."

"Good. I was a bit worried."

As Harry falls back asleep, Fenrir stays awake as a certain memory replays through his mind.

* * *

FLASHBACK

* * *

_"Ah, Fenrir, I'm glad that you made it. How's everything in the Forbidden Forest?"_

_"Cut the crap, Kingsley."_

_At the annoyed tone, Kingsley raises an eyebrow. From his seat at his hand-carved desk, the Minister of Magic watches as the large werewolf strides his way into the spacious office. Fenrir's gait instantly lets the wizard know that the man is in no mood for any games. However, Kingsley still isn't completely sure what has him so upset._

_"It's common courtesy to inquire into a guest's work, Fenrir."_

_"We both know that I'm not here to talk about the Forbidden Forest. You could've just sent your Patronus or an owl, for that."_

_With a deep breath, Kingsley leans back in his seat. Resting his elbows on the arms of the chair, he folds his hands together in thought. The Minister takes a moment to think over his words, as he has no desire to further enrage an already-annoyed werewolf._

_"Alright then, I'll just address the issue then. Harry has told me about his situation, that the two of you are mated and that he is pregnant with your child."_

_Letting the statement hang in the air between them, Kingsley keeps his gaze even on the man before his desk. Fenrir's eyes sharpen, but other than that the werewolf makes no movement to acknowledge the statement._

_"I have made sure that all his work for the next six months is nothing too strenuous," continues Shacklebolt. "I've also forbidden him from going out on field investigations. Even though this means I'll be without my best expert on the Dark Arts for quite some time."_

_"And?"_

_At the single word, Kingsley's attention is instantly refocused on the werewolf. Fenrir's tone may suggest his frustration but his body language isn't as subtle. The intimidating man glares down at the Minister of Magic in a way few, if any people, would dare._

_"And what, Fenrir?"_

_"Don't insult my intelligence, Shacklebolt. I know that you have 'grievances', so let's hear 'em."_

_Leaning forward, the large wizard moves his elbows to rest on the surface of the polished desk._

_"I'm concerned, I won't lie. Everything is alright now, since this development is only known to select people. However, once the truth comes out to the public, things will be very hard for the two of you. Harry, especially."_

_"The pup and I will handle it, when it comes up."_

_"Heed my warning Fenrir. Don't do anything that will give reason for the Ministry to take action. When this becomes known, believe that there will be those that will think you took advantage of Harry. For better or worse, Harry is a symbol, he's the 'Savior of the Wizarding World'. People don't react well to their symbols being . . . tainted, for the lack of a better word. They might even deem it the type of action to remove your mate and child from you."_

_At the words, a noticeable darkness settles on the alpha wolf. A low growl emits from his throat as the mere thought of Harry being taken away from him makes his inner wolf see red. Stalking closer to the ornate desk, Fenrir places his hands on the surface with the eerie calmness of the apex predator that he is. He locks his intense gaze with the Minister's as his voice comes out in a low, warning tone._

_"Harry Potter is mine, Kingsley. He gave himself to me of his own will. I personally promise you that if the Ministry even attempts to take him or our cub I will start a rampage on all of you wizards that will make Voldemort's reign seem like a fuckin' fairy tail, got me?"_

_For a moment, silence passes between the two men. Kingsley Shacklebolt cannot help the fear that the intense blue eyes instill. Anger is one thing, but the coldness in the werewolf's gaze is truly terror inspiring. Despite his recent change in disposition, this is the same man that has been accused of tearing wizards to shreds during the war. Not that large enough pieces of the victims' bodies have been found to confirm such atrocities. However, despite all of these thoughts, what truly leaves the Minister of Magic speechless is the reason behind them. This pure rage is generated from the affection that the notorious werewolf has developed for Harry James Potter._

_"You're wasting that threat on me, however I will pass it along to the rest of the Ministry if you like," begins Kingsley with a knowing smile. "Fenrir, I have nothing against you. And Harry, is an adult, contrary to popular belief. He makes his own decisions."_

_"Then why this big meetin'?"_

_"Two reasons. The first reason, even though I am happy for you and Harry, you still have a job for the Ministry to do. As Minister, I just want to make sure that you aren't getting distracted."_

_"You have the progress map, Kingsley. Obviously, I'm not."_

_The man lets out a chuckle. His stern face wrinkling up in a smile as his eyes drift over to look at the parchment map sitting on his desk. To Fenrir's credit, the Forbidden Forest is more than halfway charted. The Ministry is more than satisfied with the detailed survey of the lands and the various territories established by the forest's denizens. It has been six months, and the team has made excellent progress and all without any major injury. Even the members of the Ministry that remain distrustful of Fenrir are satisified with the werewolf's efficiency._

_"So, I hear that Harry now lives with you?"_

_Raising an eyebrow at Kingsley's question, Fenrir's face hardens with anger._

_"Did you think I'd leave my pregnant mate alone?"_

_Putting up his hands in no offense, the Minister continues._

_"I was just curious. Let's move on to reason number two. I already can't use Harry in the field due to your 'influence'. I'm afraid that he won't be able to maintain his office as Head Auror if you don't take extra care of him."_

_"What the hell is that supposed to mean?! I take care of him just fine!"_

_"What I mean, Mr. Greyback," begins Kingsley, his own tone now as hard as the werewolf's. "Is that he thinks that he can do everything. We both know that Harry is tough, he always has been. However, he is pregnant and now his priority is to take care of the child he is carrying."_

_The Minister of Magic takes a breath as prepares to level some cold hard truth to the werewolf before him._

_"Head Auror isn't just a title, it is a highly-coveted position that all my aurors are constantly vying for. So far, Harry has done an excellent job proving that he deserves the position even at his young age. Every auror that follows him, respects him and we all are indebted to him for ridding the world of the Dark Lord. However, when this news comes out—and you are fooling yourself if you think it won't—there is a very high possibility some will use it to discredit all the work that Harry has done. I don't want that to happen, do you?"_

_"No, the pup loves his work," Fenrir admits. "It would devastate him."_

_"Exactly, so I suggest that we both increase our efforts to ease things for him. After all, even the Minister of Magic can only hold off the 'Daily Prophet' for so long. When that day comes, we'll have to think of the best way to present this situation."_

_The undeniable truth of the man's words make Fenrir think long and hard. As much as he wants to keep Harry away from all the bureaucracy of the wizarding world, it is becoming more and more evident that it is impossible. Fenrir knows better than anyone that the Ministry of Magic is capable of making life a living hell, especially for Harry._

_"Kingsley, I want your word that you'll do everything to protect Harry and the cub. I don't give a shite what any wizard says about me, but they haven't done anythin' wrong."_

_"You have my word," agrees Kingsley._

Returning to the present, Fenrir eyes drift closed as he takes a deep sniff of his mate, letting Harry's scent linger before exhaling it. His arms tighten ever so slightly around the slumbering wizard, the werewolf needing to feel the reassuring weight of his pregnant mate in his arms. At the action, Harry cuddles even closer to Fenrir with a soft smile on his lips.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**

* * *

**So, a bit more plot is in this chapter, as well as more development in Fenrir and Harry's relationship. I personally love the wood-splitting scene, it was the most fun to write for me.**

**Anywho, later days!**

**-RENKA**


	6. Culture Clash

**Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix**

**Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations**

**Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I'm basing a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie ****_Fools Rush In _****starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've decided to adjust into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.**

**This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.**

**Again, I apologize for the unusually long wait time between these chapters and Chapter 4. I appreciate all of you that read and I enjoy all the feedback I get from you. Unfortunately, some things came up and I had to divert my attention back to work that pays the bills. But, I'm back now, and to make up for it here's the second part of this week's DOUBLE UPDATE! **

**ENJOY!**

* * *

**CHAPTER SIX - Culture Clash**

* * *

Harry Potter has never been one to let any task unnerve him. After all, he is a Gryffindor and he faces every endeavor with the courage for which his House was founded upon. Whether it's battling a Basilisk or defeating dark wizards, Head Auror Harry James Potter always manages to keep his wits about him. However, with this particular task before him, even the "Saviour of the Wizarding World," has a few hesitations.

With a deep breath, he firms his grip on the stepstool that he is currently perched upon as he shifts his weight in order to raise his foot. The pregnant wizard is attempting to go from the first step of the stool to the second highest step. A normally-easy feat that is complicated by Harry's additional weight.

"What are you doin'?" questions Fenrir, as he walks into the main room of the cottage.

"I'm cleaning," Harry replies simply. His focus on reestabilishing his balance. "Though at the moment, I'm simply trying not to fall."

At the words, Fenrir quickly crosses the room. With one large hand on the small of Harry's back, he provides the wizard with the extra stabilty needed to complete his task.

"Thanks."

"Not a problem."

With his wand sticking out of his back pocket, Harry arranges the rag in his hand until he reaches a clean area on the cloth. The wizard's eyes focus on the cobweb that has evaded his cleaning for the last half of an hour or so. Now that he is properly balanced on the step ladder, Harry finally reaches the dust-collecting web at the very top of the fireplace with a victorious grin.

"I've tried all the spells and charms I can think of but none of them are getting the house quite clean enough," informs the Head Auror, as he continues to dust the mantle of the fireplace. "So, now I'm doing it the muggle way."

"Is it workin'?" asks Fenrir, removing his support once his pregnant mate is balanced again.

"A little."

Harry turns around to see the imposing man chuckling to himself. Taking a moment to step down off the ladder, the wizard stuffs his dust rag into his pocket. He raises an eyebrow at Fenrir's unexpected reaction.

"What exactly is so funny?"

"You're nestin', pup. It's cute, is all."

"Nesting?"

"When a female werewolf gets pregnant in the pack, she cleans out her den to make sure that everythin' is in order for her cubs," Fenrir explains as he takes a seat on the sofa. "I guess since you're carryin' my cubs, you're acting a bit like a wolf mother."

"Figures," replies the wizard with a roll of his eyes. "Then again, I've been having all the other symptoms of pregnancy: nausea, cramps, food cravings, ankle swelling . . . why not this too?"

"Well, I like some of your pregnancy symptoms."

"Oh really? Like what exactly?"

"Well, for one, you crave sex more."

Harry blushes a bit at the statement. Turning to face the man completely, green eyes search Fenrir's face for any sign of deception. Finding nothing but the man's leering(but honest) stare, he sighs in defeat.

"Do I really _crave_ sex more?"

"You haven't noticed?" inquires Fenrir. The werewolf leaning back in his seat as he folds his hand behind his head. "You practically tackled me into bed the other night. Not that I'm complainin', mind you."

"I've never paid much attention to it . . ."

As Harry lets his words drift off, his eyes shift to look appreciatively at his mate. Viridian eyes travel over the man's well-muscled body, stopping every once in a while to linger on the wizard's favorite features. Harry can barely contain a groan as Fenrir carelessly flexes his muscles in a full-body stretch.

"Although, now that you mention it, Fenrir, I suppose that I have."

Harry walks towards the werewolf with a confidence that he normally doesn't possess when it comes to sexual matters. Maybe it is the surge of hormones that is now flowing through his body. Or maybe he is just more secure in his newfound attraction to men, specifically the man currently watching his every move. Regardless of any of his behavioral conjecture, Harry is completely certain that he wants Fenrir—_now_.

Using the arm of the couch to stabilize himself, the wizard straddles the man's waist and leans down to kiss him. Not expecting the sudden exchange, but not fighting it either, Fenrir meets his mate's enthusiasm with his own. A growl leaves the werewolf's throat as pale hands quickly unbutton the shirt covering his chest. Harry's fingers stroke along the man's warm skin as their kiss deepens, the wizard liking the masculinity that seems to roll off the man at all times. A moan escapes Harry's lips as the man's hands squeeze his ass encouragingly. When they part for air, Fenrir's licks over the kiss-bruised lips with a satisfied groan.

"You taste like chocolate, pup."

"Oh, I went into Hogsmeade the other day and bought a few chocolate frogs," comments Harry as his hands start removing the man's shirt from his shoulders. "I've been craving them all week."

"Careful, too many sweets aren't good for the cub."

"Tell that to your cub. Besides meat, that's all he wants to eat."

As they continue their activities, the rest of the memories from that day in Hogsmeade begin to come back to Harry's mind.

"I ran into Abigail," continues the wizard as he tosses the werewolf's shirt over his shoulder. "Did she tell you her findings?"

"Yeah, I got the gist of it from Derrick. It does help things a bit."

"I think Abigail fancies you. Every time I mention you now, she blushes like a tomato. It's adorable."

Fenrir grumbles in acknowledgement, too far engulfed in removing Harry's t-shirt to truly care.

"Should I be concerned?"

"I'm all yours, pup. You know that."

A satisfied smile appears on the wizard's face as he sits half naked on top of his bare-chested werewolf. He slides his palms up and down the planes of Fenrir's torso, encouraging the low growl that is reverberating through the man's chest.

"Is there anyone else that I should worry about?" asks Harry as he leans down and starts to kiss along the werewolf's throat.

"You defeated Voldemort, who the hell would you have to worry about?"

For a moment, a look of complete seriousness appears on Harry's face.

"I just like to be prepared, Fenrir. I like to know what I'm going up against."

Sensing the tone tainting his wizard's lust, Fenrir leans up to whisper into the other's ear.

"In a minute, you're about to be up against a wall. Other than that, you don't have anything else to worry about."

Harry rolls his eyes good-naturedly before leaning in to continue their kiss. And true to his word, the man gets up from the couch and wraps his mate's long legs around his hips, before pressing him up against the nearest-available wall. Pinning the wizard there, the werewolf starts kissing the pale skin that is exposed to him. Sharp canines graze over the claim mark on the side of the wizard's throat. As aggressive as his actions are, Fenrir makes sure to be gentle with his pregnant mate. His large hands slide to Harry's swollen stomach, softly caressing the curve of their baby as their kiss continues. Engulfed in their passions, both men are startled when a gruff voice suddenly sounds through their door.

"Yo Fenrir, you in there?!"

The werewolf grumbles in frustration however he doesn't stop his ministrations. Loud knocking on the door is now heard as the couple continue kissing, both sharing the hope that their visitor will eventually give up.

Unfortunately, the person proves to be rather persistent and it is Harry that has to forcibly separate their lips. Taking a moment to catch his breath, the wizard looks down into piercing eyes of his mate—who still has him pinned against the wall.

"Go in the back," states Fenrir as he places the wizard back on his feet. "Stay there until I tell you it's safe to come back out."

"Why?" asks Harry, his eyebrow raised in confusion.

"If it's who I think it is, I don't want him anywhere near you."

"Who is it?"

"It's another werewolf," grumbles out Fenrir, walking away to grab their discarded shirts.

"You know him though, right?"

"Unfortunately."

"So, is he dangerous or something?"

At the question paired with Harry's tone of worry, Fenrir can't help but laugh. The action making it a bit difficult for the large man to re-button his shirt.

"You're looking at the most dangerous werewolf there is, pup. I just don't like him much, is all."

Harry can't help but smile at the man's stroke to his own ego. Taking his shirt from Fenrir, he slips it back on over his own torso. The oversized material practically hangs off the wizard, however it effectively hides the swell of Harry's belly.

"Well, I can help."

"Harry, I'm not letting you put yourself in danger. Now that you're startin' to show, we're not taking any chances. Go on, now."

At the gentle insistence instead of an order, the wizard sighs before retreating to their bedroom. The second that Harry leaves, the man then goes and opens door. His blue eyes narrow as they take in the other werewolf. The man is tall, almost reaching Fenrir's own height, with dark blonde locks around his well-defined features. A long scar runs along the side of face and down his throat before it disappears into his shirt. His amber eyes glare with amusement.

"Took you long enough to answer, Fenrir."

"What the fuck are you doing here, Mason?"

The question is left unanswered as Mason sniffs the air. His brow furrows as a strange, yet intriguing scent seems to emanate from Fenrir—as well as from further inside the cottage.

"Who's scent is all over you?"

"None of your damn business. Now answer my question."

"Well, I heard you found your mate," Mason replies, an annoyed sigh leaving his lips. "Can't blame me for bein' a bit curious."

"Like hell I can't. A letter could've satisfied your curiosity just fine. I don't need your mangy scent stinkin' up the place."

"Well, I'm here now. Are you going to let me in or what?"

"Still haven't given me a good reason why I should."

"C'mon Fenrir."

Rolling his eyes, Fenrir steps to the side, a wordless gesture that the slightly smaller wolf can enter the cottage. Taking the invitation, or at least what passes for one, the blonde crosses the threshold with an amused chuckle.

"It really hurts that my own big brother doesn't want to see me."

"Just because we were raised together, don't make us related," clarifies Fenrir, closing the door. "I haven't seen you since the pack disbanded once Voldemort first took over. If memory serves, you were runnin' off with your tail between your legs and you didn't stop until you got all the way to Canada, right?"

"I left in order to start a new pack far away from all these damn wizards. Unlike one of us, I refused to get wrapped up in their war."

The excuse receives a disbelieving scoff from Fenrir as he crosses his arms.

"It would've only been a matter of time before Voldemort found you all. I just choose to face the threat head on instead of run from it. If anything, the bastard was relentless."

Thinking back on the snake-like man, an anger settles over the werewolf that he has never felt before. Usually, Fenrir felt no more than passing indifference whenever his thoughts drifted to the Dark Lord, but now he feels a simmering rage. Hell, to be perfectly honest, part of the werewolf wants to find a way to resurrect the man just to indulge in the delight of ripping him to shreds.

It doesn't take a genius to figure out that this change of Fenrir's opinion has to do with the identity of his new mate.

"So, where is she?" asks Mason, bringing the older werewolf back to the conversation.

"Who?"

"Your mate."

"What makes you think I'd let you anywhere near my mate?"Fenrir retorts, the man absently wondering how long he can keep Harry away from his "little brother".

"There's a scent all over this place that's not your usual stench, Fenrir. Smells nice actually, even with the magic coverin' this Ministry-owned house."

"Fenrir, is everything alright out here?"

Fenrir turns around to see Harry coming out from the back of the house—the werewolf actually surprised that Harry hadn't come out sooner. The green-eyed wizard approaches the two werewolves with a raised eyebrow.

"Why the hell do you have Harry Potter in your house?" asks Mason, the man's eyes going immediately to the tell-tale scar on the wizard's brow.

"He's here because I want him here, Mason. Can't say the same for you though."

Looking from his mate to the stranger, Harry has an expectant look on his face. With an inward grumble, Fenrir speaks up.

"Harry, this arse is Mason Greyback."

"_Greyback_?"

"Yeah, _that_ 'arse' and I are brothers," explains Mason.

A look of complete shock crosses the wizard's face at this revelation. He looks from Fenrir to Mason, trying to find any similarities in face structure. Even though they are not blood-related, both alpha wolves possess a commanding presence and have a similar intensity to their gazes. Where Fenrir is taller and broad framed, Mason is leaner and has almost a feline quality to his movements. However, looking at either man, even Harry can tell that both Greybacks are predators in their prime.

Once the new information has fully sunk in, green eyes focus completely on the larger werewolf.

"You never told me you had a brother, Fenrir."

"I don't. We were just raised together by the wolf that turned us. It ain't by blood or anythin'."

"Oh," replies Harry, still a bit overwhelmed by all of this. "Fenrir, could you join me in the kitchen for a bit?"

"I'll be there in a moment, pup." starts Fenrir. "I need to talk to my 'brother' about a few things."

"Take your time."

Watching the wizard leave, Mason's gaze lingers a bit longer than necessary on Harry's retreating form. A warning growl escapes Fenrir's throat as he notices the hint of arousal that emanates from the other werewolf.

"What's got you all bent out of shape?"

Fenrir's sharp blue eyes narrow dangerously. It literally takes every ounce of willpower in his body to not attack the wolf openly ogling his mate.

"I don't like you lookin' at him like that."

"Just appreciatin' the view. Pity not all wizards look like that. It might make their whole lot a bit more tolerable," comments Mason with a leering grin. "So, back to business then. Where's this mate of yours? You hidin' her from me?"

"My mate is male, Mason. And I don't have to hide him from anyone, least of all you."

Without waiting for a response, Fenrir leaves the room and follows after Harry into the kitchen. Once he enters the room he is met with a glare from emerald eyes. Harry simply stares at him with his arms crossed over his chest. His relaxed body language completely discordant with the look on his face.

"What?" questions Fenrir, honestly confused by the wizard's mood.

"Were you ever going to mention that you had a brother?"

"You never asked."

At the lame excuse, Harry's glare intensifies. He takes a deep breath before stepping closer to the man. His voice comes out in a harsh whisper.

"Ron barely speaks to me, but I told him and Hermione. I told my two best friends in the entire world, that the two of us were mated and that I'm pregnant. Do you have any idea how awkward that was?"

"Harry—"

"But you couldn't even manage to write a letter to your brother—that you never even bothered to mention _ever_—in all this time."

"Harry, if you'd let me, I'd let the entire world know that you're mine. You're the one that insists on using spells to cover up my mark and hide that you are carrying our cub."

At the remark, Harry's glare dies down. Reaching a hand out to Fenrir's arm, his face softens. The werewolf is unnerved by the complete mood swing, but leans into the touch anyway.

"Fenrir, we both agreed that the best way to keep our privacy and keep our child safe is for me to use these concealment spells in public. I don't like doing it either, but I also don't want our personal life being invaded by strangers. We also agreed that it was perfectly fine to tell our family and friends that we are together. So, even if you didn't tell me about him, you didn't exactly tell him about me, now did you?"

Realizing that he is still in the wrong, Fenrir runs a hand through his grey-streaked hair.

"Werewolves are different than wizards and muggles. We don't meet up for holidays and share our lives like that. Hell, the only reason our sire raised us together was because he wanted heirs. There's good reason why my 'brother' and I like havin' an entire ocean between us."

Harry looks up at his mate, studying the man's face. With a resigning sigh, the wizard moves closer to the werewolf. Strong arms automatically wrap around Harry bringing him against a firm chest. Hearing Fenrir take a deep inhale of his scent, the auror smiles.

"Alright, I forgive you. Your brother is here now, so what do you want to do?"

At the question, Fenrir stares down at his mate. If he's honest with himself there's only one thing that the alpha wants to do—besides restarting what Mason interrupted earlier. The werewolf takes the wizard's hand and walks them both back out to the main room of the cottage. When they stop, right before Mason, Fenrir wraps his arm firmly around Harry's waist. His large palm settles right on top of the growing child.

"Mason, Harry Potter is my mate and is carrying my cub. If you don't like it, fuck off."

"Wait, you're mated to a _wizard_? You're _fuckin'_ mated to Harry Potter!" the man exclaims, too shocked to acknowledge the rest of Fenrir's declaration. "You haven't even turned him!"

"What I do with my mate is my business," states Fenrir, his muscles tensing in annoyance from the other alpha wolf in the room questioning his choice in mate. "Besides, the pup's fine just the way he is."

"Says the wolf that used to be some dark wizard's lapdog. What, now that he's gone you needed a new master? Decided on one that you could fuck as well as serve this time?"

As the words leave his brother's mouth they ignite every dominant instinct within Fenrir. Mason may be considered his brother, but at the moment he is just a challenger to Fenrir's authority as well as a possible threat to his mate and unborn cub. A deep, guttural growl leaves his throat as he narrows his eyes.

"Would you like another scar to match the last one I gave you?" growls out Fenrir, indicating the large scar already marring his brother's face.

As he speaks, Fenrir positions Harry behind him. The werewolf making sure that his pregnant mate is safely out of harm's way.

"I'd like to see you try, Fenrir!"

"Don't tempt me, Mason. I can't promise you that I'll remember to hold back if I fight you right now."

One moment the two werewolves are arguing, the next moment they are locked in a fight. Rolling about on the floor, the two grown men scratch, bite, and punch each other with animalistic ferocity. Harry stares on in complete shock at the sudden turn of events. However when the Greyback brothers knock over a lamp, the resulting crash snaps Harry back to his senses.

"Fenrir, stop!" shouts Harry, careful not to get too close to the brawling brothers. "Please stop it, both of you!"

His cries fall on deaf ears as Fenrir is too pre-occupied with throwing his brother to the ground to hear Harry. Annoyance now creeps onto the wizard's face as another lamp is lost to their battle. Whipping out his wand, the Head Auror sends out a spell that he barely has to focus his magic to cast.

"Stupefy!"

At the command, the two werewolves are frozen in their positions wrestling on the floor. The spell doesn't have the full effect on the lycanthropes, but it does stop the fighting. Sweat is pouring off both men as the wounds they've inflicted on each other bleed steadily. Shocked by the high-level magic fueling the basic spell, the two dominant wolves look up at Harry.

"Now that I have your attention," starts the wizard, taking a few steps towards the temporarily-paralyzed men. "Let me take this opportunity to explain some things to both of you."

Staring down at the two helpless werewolves, Harry adjusts his black-rimmed glasses before clearing his throat.

"Fenrir, while I normally find your implusive behavior rather endearing, tearing up the house while brawling with your brother isn't exactly a habit I'd like you to pass to our child. And Mason, you may not approve of me being a wizard, however I don't approve of you being a self-righteous git. Now in about five months, I'm going to make Fenrir a father and you, Mason are going to be an uncle. So, if you have any intention of being in our child's life, you're going to have to get over whatever issue you've got with Fenrir and me. Got it?"

The werewolves are released from their holds with a flourish of the auror's wand.

"Nod if you both understand."

Obediently, both men nod at Harry's question as they catch their breaths.

"Excellent. Now that everything is settled, the two of you can catch up with each other as you clean this room. I trust you two can do it without me babysitting the two of you. If you need me, I'll be in bed."

With that Harry turns to return to their bedroom. The two brothers stare after him before a grin appears on Mason's face.

"I'm starting to see how he was able to defeat Voldemort."

"Yeah, the pup's got a real feisty side to him."

"Still think you're daft for matin' a wizard though."

"If I cared about what you think Mason, that might've meant somethin'," grumbles out Fenrir as he stands up. "Now shut up and clean this mess up."

"Why do I have to clean it up?"

"Because, before we were interrupted, we both know that I was winnin'," tosses Fenrir over his shoulder as he heads after Harry. "And now, I'm gonna go finish what I was doin' before you showed up. If you know what's good for you, you won't interrupt us this time."

* * *

THE NEXT NIGHT

* * *

At the countryside home of Ronald and Hermione Weasley, Harry is sitting in the kitchen helping Hermione as she prepares dessert. The witch is slicing a treacle tart as Harry arranges them on a platter and tops each slice with fresh whipped cream. Ron is present as well, however he isn't exactly helping. The lanky red-head is refusing to leave the room to speak with their lycan guests.

As a gesture to clear the air, Hermione had invited Harry and Grayson(along with Derrick, Scarlett, and Mason) to their house for a quiet dinner party. So far, the dinner had been filled with tension and punctuated with awkward silences. Any worthwhile conversation had been between Harry, Hermione, and Scarlett while the others commented occasionally. Then again, it didn't help that Ron had spent the entire evening glaring at Fenrir, who in turn spent most of the night touching Harry underneath the table.

"I can't believe that you've brought not one, but four werewolves into my house, Harry."

"_Our_ house, Ron," points out the witch as she fetches some forks from the drawer beside her. "And I invited them. So, if you want to blame someone then blame me."

"'Mione, I'm trying to make a point here."

"Then make it, Ron," Harry cuts in as he folds his arms across his chest. "All this sounds like to me is that you don't want to meet werewolves. Fenrir isn't the same man he was during the war and this is the first time you've even met Scarlett, Derrick, and Mason. You could actually try to get to know them instead of assuming that they are going to rip your throat out the fist chance that they get. Werewolves aren't any different than the rest of us—some are good and some are bad. Look at Remus, he was a perfect gentleman most of the time."

"Well said Harry," comments Hermione as she wipes off her hands. "And even if you don't agree, Ron, they are guests in our home and shall be treated as such. What would your mother say if she heard that you were being so impolite?"

Ron turns to his two best friends with a look of complete shock. Not knowing what else to do, he throws his hands up in defeat.

"You two are completely mad, that's what she'd say. Harry is mated and pregnant with the child of Fenrir Greyback, the most notorious werewolf in the world. The man that worked for Voldemort and turned children for Merlin's sake! He scarred Bill, my older brother! And this very same man is sitting in our living room with his brother and two underlings waiting for us to bring out dessert. And I'm the only one concerned with this situation?! Something is definitely wrong with this picture."

Taking a deep breath, Harry uses the opportunity to think. Ron has every reason to be distrustful of Fenrir, the wizard can't fault him for that. Up until about six months ago, Harry might have had the same reaction. The infamous werewolf had done quite a fantastic job making a name for himself as ruthless and terrifying. However, getting to know his mate and understand what drives him, Harry can't find it within himself to fault Fenrir either.

"Ron I understand what you are feeling, really I do. However, you can't judge someone based on the person they were during a war. I can't exactly say I did things that I'm particularly proud of back then," starts Harry, his gaze lowered as he finds the right words. "But Fenrir isn't some bloodthirsty, mindless creature or some convenient villain to blame. He is a man that had to make difficult decisions in order to survive as well as protect his pack. Fenrir has always been honest with me, so I know exactly what he's done. Now I'm not condoning the the crimes he's committed, however I'm not condemning him for his past either. All of us are trying to start our lives over after Voldemort, that includes the people that fought against us too."

For a moment, both Hermione and Ron simply stare at Harry. It isn't often that Harry brought Voldemort into conversation, so they are a bit taken aback. However, the thing that makes them think is the perspective that Harry is presenting them. One of the things that makes Harry such an excellent auror is that he doesn't simply perceive the world in black and white. Through his own experinces as well as those of the people that he's met in his life, Harry understands that even the best people can find themselves doing horrible things. It's the way of the world. However, he also believes that people deserve a chance to prove that they can change when given the opportunity. It is that deeply-rooted optimism he possesses, even after losing so many loved ones and facing the greatest dark wizard ever known, that makes Harry so amazing.

"Ron, if Harry says there's nothing to worry about, then I'm likely to believe him," begins Hermione with a smile on her face as she picks up the tray of dessert. " Besides, Fenrir does seem sincere in his feelings for Harry. After all, the two of them have been living together for the last few months now and Harry is perfectly fine."

Going over to his red-headed best friend, Harry places a reassuring hand on his shoulder.

"All I'm asking is that you at least go out and get to know them, Ron."

At the looks from both his wife and best friend, a resigning sigh leaves Ron's mouth.

"I get what you're saying Harry. And it sounds all well and good and everything, but this is still quite a bit to get used too."

"Alright. If not for me, than do it for your future niece or nephew's sake. How are they going to play with their Uncle Ron if he can't get along with their father?"

As he asks, Harry looks at his friend expectantly while he rubs a hand over the growing bump of his baby. The underhanded tactic seems to do the job of clearing the tension in the room.

"Oh, come on Harry!" whines Ron, already caving in to Harry's request. "You can't use your unborn baby to get what you want. It's not fair!"

"Of course I can. I use it on Fenrir, and I can use it on you. Don't make me pull out the sonogram photograph. Now, let's go."

With a sigh and a mumble under his breath, Ron follows a laughing Harry and Hermione out of the kitchen. Once the trio enter the living room, the red-headed wizard straightens up as he sees the four werewolves on various pieces of his living room furniture. Scarlett and Derrick are sitting side by side on the love seat as Mason is leaning against a wall. Fenrir is sitting in a large chair, his posture suggesting his continuing annoyance at his brother's presence. Harry makes his way over to Fenrir and sits himself on the armrest. Instantaneously, he protectively wraps an arm around the wizard's waist.

"So, you have a lovely home, Hermione," observes Scarlett.

"Thank you. Ron and I built it a few years ago."

"With magic or with your hands?"

"Mason," warns Harry. His tone instantly shutting up the blonde werewolf as Fenrir grins beside him. "Be nice."

"Actually, yes we did use magic to build this house," states Ron, sitting beside Hermione on the larger couch in the room. "We are wizards. We use magic, big surprise."

"Ronald," begins Hermione with her own warning tone as she begins passing out plates. "Don't say anything you'll regret."

"I just think that we should get to the issue here. And honestly, I don't think Harry and Fenrir are fully prepared for all the problems they're going to face being married, or mated , or whatever."

Once the words leaves Ron's lips, the group tenses. The very subject had been carefully avoided all evening and now they are all forced to face it.

"Never thought I'd ever say this, but I agree with the wizard," begins Mason.

"Ron does have a point," chimes in Derrick. "You two haven't been together very long. Marriage and Mating are hard enough as it is without adding more complications to it."

"I don't think that there's anything wrong with Harry and Fenrir's relationship," starts in Scarlett. Her eyes stare at her mate pointedly as she continues. "Frankly, I don't recall you being this level-headed when we first met, Derrick. Our relationship isn't all that different from theirs. If you had thought things through, would you have still pursued me?"

Realizing the fight that this could potentially cause, the werewolf quickly answers the question.

"Of course, Scarlett. But you and I aren't Harry Potter, Head Auror and Savior of the Wizarding World, and Fenrir Greyback, Infamous Alpha Werewolf and Lord of the Lycans."

The room is silent for a second as that fact sinks in.

"Still, it does have a romantic quality to it when you think about it," comments Hermione after finishing off the sweet, buttery slice of pie on her plate.

"Hermione!"

"Well, this is Harry's life," continues the witch, ignoring her husband's outburst. "He's perfectly capable of deciding how to go about it. I'm not going to let everyone else's hard-headedness get in the way of seeing my friend's baby. I can't wait to be an aunt. That reminds me, Harry, I've collected some books that I think will be helpful with your unique pregnancy. It wasn't easy mind you, there aren't many thorough reference books on werewolf pregnancies and child-rearing. I'll have them sent to you in a couple days."

"Thanks, I really appreciate it, Hermione," Harry replies as he too finishes off the last of his treacle tart.

"Look Harry, you know that I always have your back. I'm just saying that this situation isn't exactly an easy one to deal with. I mean, forgetting the fact that you're with Fenrir, you're still pregnant. I mean, how do you plan to explain the baby to everybody?"

At Ron's question, Harry turns to share a look with Fenrir.

"It's alright, pup. Go ahead and tell them."

"Fenrir and I have decided that we will announce everything—me being pregnant and the two of us being mated—after the baby is born. We aren't going to hide the fact that we are both the parents and we don't want to hide our relationship any longer than we already have."

"Is that a good idea, Harry?" states Hermione, the practical witch concerned that they might not be thinking clearly. "I mean, this will be a huge shock to well, just about everyone."

"We know. But, it'll be better this way. It will be on our terms and we can take precautions to protect ourselves and our baby. Besides, it's not as if it's illegal for us to be together. The Ministry has recognised same-sex partnerships as well as relationships between magical creatures and wizards for ages. It's not as if they can take me and the baby away from Fenrir against our will."

Harry's comment makes Fenrir think back to the conversation he shared with Kingsley Shacklebolt. Unknown to his mate, the werewolf is well aware that the Ministry could very well separate them with a bogus charge of child endangerment or some other such nonsense. After all, there are still plenty of witches and wizards that hold prejudices against lycanthropes who are just chomping at the bit for any excuse to lock up the notorious Fenrir Greyback for good.

"So, Harry, Fenrir, how do you two plan to raise the baby?" asks Scarlett, changing the subject as well as bringing her alpha back into the conversation.

"We haven't really discussed it that much," begins Harry."We figured that we should actually have the baby before deciding how it will be raised."

"Well, obviously, the cub needs to be raised around werewolves."

"And what, the baby shouldn't be raised around wizards?" interjects Ron as he glares at Mason.

"Considering what they've done to us why should we trust them to raise one of ours? The Ministry will probably want to start pouring Wolfsbane down the kid's throat the second he's weaned. He'll be safer with Fenrir's pack."

"So what? You're just going to take Harry and the baby away to live in a wolf pack and we'll never see either of them again?! That's not fair!"

"Fair?!," exclaims Mason, with a scoff. "What would a wizard know about being fair? If you all had it your way, werewolves would all be extinct by now! The cub needs to know the pride of being a werewolf before you wizards make him ashamed of it!"

"Enough," interrupts Fenrir, his deep voice instantly cutting through Mason and Ron's arguement. "This is our cub. Harry and I will decide how we raise it. Your help will be solicited, _if needed_."

Keeping his arm around Harry, the large man gets up out of the chair. All eyes in the room are on Fenrir as he offers his hand to the pregnant wizard.

"C'mon pup, it's late. We should be goin'."

Taking a look at the clock on the wall, Harry is surprised to see that it is well past ten. So wrapped up in their conversation, the wizard had lost track of time. However, Harry is more interested in the odd mood that has settled over Fenrir, it's almost as if he's in a rush to leave.

"He's right, " agrees Harry. "I have a long day at the Ministry tomorrow and an appointment at Saint Mungo's. I'm going to need all the sleep I can get."

Harry walks over to exchange farewells with Ron and Hermione. Reading the mood emanating from the alpha wolf, the three werewolves quickly say their goodbyes before apparating to their own destinations. Once he is the only lycanthrope in the Weasley's home, Fenrir walks over to his mate.

"Are you ready to go, Harry?"

"Yes," replies the auror, surprised to already feel the man's arm wrapping around him.

"Alright, g'night Mr. and Mrs. Weasley."

And with that, Fenrir activates the familiar portkey and transports them back to their snow-covered cottage just outside Hogsmeade.

* * *

"I cannot believe things got so out of hand," replies Harry as he changes into his pajamas once they've returned home.

"Well, it's to be expected. Wizards and werewolves aren't exactly known for gettin' along. We should be glad that it didn't turn to blows."

"Still, I can't get over some of the things that Mason actually said," continues the wizard. Apparently in the time that has passed since returning from his friend's home, Harry has been replaying the conversation over continuously in his mind. "I mean, why on Earth would he say things like that?"

"Well, it's not like Mason said anything that didn't have a bit of truth behind it."

At the comment, Harry pauses, mid-buttoning the loose pajama top. Viridian eyes narrow as they stare up at Fenrir incredulously.

"Fenrir, you don't honestly agree with what he said, do you?"

Despite the fact that he knows that it is a bad idea to truthfully answer this question, the werewolf replies anyway.

"Not everythin'. But I've met all types of wizards and there are certain things that they all have in common."

"Like what _exactly_?"

"For one, you all think that magic is the best thing in the world," answers Fenrir, as he walks out into the livng room. "You all may not admit it, but you all practically worship it. Magic is supposed to be a tool, not a crutch."

Following the man, Harry has to almost jog to keep up with Fenrir's large strides. The two find themselves in the kitchen as Fenrir gets himself something to eat. The large man appears to have a bottomless pit of a stomach as Harry watches him pull out some pieces of dried meat.

"I'm a wizard, Fenrir. My parents were wizards, practically everyone I know is a wizard, it's a part of who I am. Magic, is a part of who I am. Just like being a werewolf is part of who you are. Why wouldn't I pass that gift onto my child? Magic has saved my life more times and in more ways than I can even begin to count. "

"Tch! Saved you, eh?", begins the werewolf. "Magic has saved you alright, from danger that you were only in because of your precious _magic_ in the first damn place!"

"Fenrir, that isn't the point!"

"It's exactly the point! Magic brings trouble. Makes people that have no strength of their own think that they do. The only real power you have is the power in your own body and your own mind, not in some silly stick."

At that insult, Harry's eyes narrow dangerously. Without a word he turns on his heel and storms out of the room.

"Where are you goin'?" asks Fenrir, following after the wizard he just thoroughly pissed off.

"You aren't my favorite person right now. Goodnight, Greyback."

The door to their bedroom slams shut in Fenrir's face, leaving the werewolf to stare at its wooden surface. Harry's tone of voice clearly demands to be alone for the night.

The werewolf side of Fenrir Greyback can't help the twinge of sadness he feels from his mate's rejection. However, he decides to focus more on his own frustration as he goes to create a makeshift bed on the couch.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**

* * *

**Aww, Harry and Fenrir's first fight! (Don't worry, they don't stay mad at each other for too long). Also, you'll be getting the details about the logistics of Harry's pregnancy next chapter as well as the sex of the baby!**

**The next chapter will be posted one week from now, barring any unforeseen circumstances. As always, thanks for reading and I hope that you leave a comment(but it isn't a requirement)**

**Later days!**

**- RENKA**


	7. Best of Both Worlds

**Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix**

**Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations(especially in this chapter)**

**Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I've decided to base a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie ****_Fools Rush In _****starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've adjusted into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.**

**This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.**

**Okay, here's Chapter Seven, I won't hold you up with my comments ^_^**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

**CHAPTER SEVEN - Best of Both Worlds**

* * *

Steady rain falls down through the dense trees of the Forbidden Forest as Fenrir and his group make their way along. The ground is slick with mud and fallen debris, making their progress slow and awkward. After an hour of this slow trudge, the werewolves and aurors unanimously agree to explore the complex(but mostly dry) system of caves that travel through the dark woods.

Fenrir and Derrick lead the way into the underground caverns, their eyes easily adjusting to the darkness, as they keep themselves sharp for any unfriendly inhabitants. The only illumination is the light provided by the wands of Abigail and her fellow aurors as Scarlett brings up the rear.

"So, how did things go with Harry last night?" asks Derrick, low enough that only his alpha can hear the question. "From the way things were going, I can assume you two had a bit of a discussion."

"Derrick, not now," Fenrir growls out. The large man crouching a bit to navigate the low ceiling of the cave. "I ain't in the mood."

"That bad, huh?"

A grumble leaves the alpha's lips as the group makes their way into an open area of the cave. The narrow passageway has opened up to a large area allowing them all to fan out. From smell alone, the werewolves can tell that the area housed a small pack of their brethren not too long ago. However, the wizards make the same deduction from clumps of shed fur and deep gouges in the rock walls that could only be made from razor sharp claws. There is a collective shiver from the aurors at the random pilings of bones that have been completely stripped of their flesh.

"We'll rest here for a few minutes before continuing further," Fenrir barks out, as he surveys the area with narrowed eyes. Behind him, the aurors start to set up their cartography tools. "Scarlett and Derrick keep an eye on things here, I'm going to check with Espen's group. Hopefully, he and Mason aren't killing each other."

"Wait, Fenrir, I'll join you."

Raising an eyebrow at Scarlett's words, Fenrir looks at her appraisingly. The woman's face suggests that she is eager to discuss something with him.

"Makes no difference to me," replies the alpha wolf as he turns, heading to the section with the rest of their group.

The two werewolves make their way along another dark passageway, the uneven ground slopes at odd intervals and slows their progress. For a while, there is silence as the two lycanthropes travel. The steady rhythm of the rain is heard echoing through the empty and winding passageways of the immense cave.

"So, judging from your "pissed-off/I-didn't-get-any" face," begins the redhead knowingly, "I'm assuming that you and Harry had a fight?"

"What my mate and I do is our business, Scarlett."

"Or not do, you mean."

Realizing that the woman beside him is not going to let up, Fenrir takes a deep breath.

"I wasn't even allowed to sleep in my own fuckin' bed," grumbles out the alpha as he takes a moment to stretch out his back. His muscles still sore from sleeping on the couch that Harry banished him to. "The pup even had the balls to slam a door in my face."

Six months ago, the notorious werewolf would have outright laughed at the idea of being banned from his own sleeping quarters, by a wizard no less. But since mating Harry Potter, nothing has been quite the same for Fenrir Greyback.

"Let me guess, you two were arguing over how to raise the baby, right?"

Not really expecting an answer to her question, Scarlett isn't surprised when all she hears is an acknowledging grumble from the large man ahead of her. The woman continues on, knowing that Fenrir is still listening.

"And then, you said something about wizards as a whole and ended up insulting Harry with your blunt honesty. He got mad, and then you got mad, and now the two of you aren't even talking to each other."

A moment passes before Fenrir completely stops in his tracks.

"Am I close?" goads Scarlett, the redhead waiting for Fenrir to confirm the statement.

The alpha werewolf closes his eyes just as a resigning sigh escapes his lips.

"Pretty much."

Surprised by the hint of slight guilt in the deep baritone of her alpha's voice, Scarlett loses her teasing tone. The man that she has served under for so long has never been one to show any type of remorse before, especially concerning his actions towards other people. Her large eyes gain a warmth to them as she approaches Fenrir.

"Well, I hate to say it Fenrir, but what did you expect? You're mated to a wizard not a werewolf. Did you really think he was going to side with you on that argument?"

Grumbling to himself, the werewolf returns his attention to the system of caves that they are exploring. Thick muscles are tight with Fenrir's restrained anger as he continues walking, mostly because he knows that the redhead following him is completely right in her assessment.

"Look, do you care about Harry?"

"Of course I fuckin' care! I mated him, didn't I?" snaps Fenrir.

"Well then, you have to accept the fact that Harry isn't a werewolf," Scarlett states honestly, folding her arms over her chest. "He's a wizard that grew up as a muggle, and neither group have ever been pro-werewolf. And honestly, if it weren't for Lupin's influence, Harry probably wouldn't have given you a chance in the first place. You can't expect him to understand everything that werewolves have been through."

"I know that."

"That's good then. So, when you're done here, go find Harry and make up with him. Until then, get your head back in the game. We need our alpha to focus right now, not occupied with his mate."

"I am focused."

"Really?" asks the female werewolf, raising her eyebrow. "Then I'm sure you've already noticed that this area of these caverns is starting to smell an awful lot like fresh forest troll, right?"

"Fuck," growls out Fenrir as he takes his own appraising sniff of the dank air around him. His own nose simply confirms what Scarlett has already stated. "You head back and help Derrick keep an eye on the wizards. The last thing we need is an angry forest troll finding us sniffing around its new home."

* * *

LATER THAT DAY

* * *

The halls of Saint Mungo's Hospital for Magical Maladies and Injuries are full of Mediwizards hurrying off to their respective wards to heal their patients. Since the fall of Voldemort, the wizarding hospital has had a drastic decrease of cases involving deadly curses, but the center still sees plenty of witches and wizards. Among them, is Harry James Potter.

Sitting in one of the private examination rooms that he had just flooed his way into, Harry awaits the arrival of his Obstetrician to observe the progress of his pregnancy. The Head Auror's gaze flickers over to the lively fire burning away in the private fireplace, absently noticing that the flames have returned to their natural orange color. Six months along now, the wizard is showing pretty well even through the loose hospital gown he's currently wearing. His hand idly rubs his protruding belly, as deep-green eyes stare about the brightly lit room.

Reading one of the charts on the far wall, entranced by the moving people emblazoned on the charmed poster, Harry attention is distracted when the door to the room is opened.

"Here you are, pup. Been lookin' all over this place for you."

"Fenrir?," begins Harry, unable to keep the soft smile off of his face. "What are you doing here?"

The large werewolf closes the door behind him with a soft click before walking over to his mate. Inhaling the soft scent of the pregnant wizard instantly soothes the unrest that Fenrir has been feeling all day.

"I wanted to be here, so I came. Besides, Derrick and Scarlett can handle being in charge for a few hours. Mason's there too, if things get really out of hand."

Upon closer inspection of Harry, the werewolf notices the dark circles underneath the wizard's emerald eyes. Fenrir's fingers gently raise the auror's chin as his intense gaze scans Harry's face.

"You look tired," comments Fenrir after a few moments as his hand starts to run through the wizard's thick, dark locks.

"Well, I had that meeting early this morning. And, um, I didn't sleep so well last night."

As he speaks, Harry closes his eyes and leans into the gentle touch. The wizard is so occupied enjoying the larger man's presence that he barely hears what escapes Fenrir's lips.

"I slept like shite on that damn couch."

There is an awkward silence between the couple as neither man wants to mention their fight from the night before. Shifting a bit on the examination table, Harry clears his throat before locking his gaze with the werewolf.

"I'm really glad that you came."

"Me too," replies Fenrir. Dropping his own gaze to Harry's swollen belly, he remembers what Scarlett told him back in the cave. "I didn't mean any of that rot I said to you yesterday."

Harry finds himself genuinely surprised by the apology as Fenrir Greyback isn't one to offer such things. However, what makes the wizard smile is the honest sincerity behind the man words.

"Thank you, Fenrir. However, I think you and I both know that you meant every word of what you said," answers Harry, his smile transforming into a smirk at the surprised look on the man's face. "We've been living together for the past four months and I've gotten to know you pretty well, Fenrir Greyback. You don't say anything you don't mean."

Pausing for effect, Harry takes a deep breath before he continues.

"Besides, you were right—magic, _in the wrong hands_, is dangerous. Unfortunately for both of us, we've been overly exposed to the evils that can be done with magic. However, without it, I know for a fact that I wouldn't be the person that I am today."

As he speaks, Harry takes one of Fenrir's large hands and rests it over their baby growing inside him.

"And despite everything that magic has taken away, look at what it has given to us. Without magic, we wouldn't have our baby."

The werewolf is made speechless when he feels gentle shifting underneath his palm. The active movements of his unborn cub causes a warm smile to distort the infamous werewolf's rugged features.

"Our cub is gettin' stronger," replies Fenrir, a bit unsure of how to respond to Harry's earlier statement. "He just kicked my hand."

"The baby always starts moving more when it hears your voice. I think he likes it."

Before Fenrir can properly comment on that observation, the door of the private exam room opens once again. This time, a Mediwitch clad in white healer's robes comes in. The woman looks to be in her late thirties, but her positive and vibrant smile makes her face look younger. Olive-toned skin is complimented by the dark curly hair that falls to her shoulders. Settling her supplies on a nearby desk, the woman turns to face her patient.

"Ah, hello again, Mr. Potter," greets the witch, receiving a smile in return from the Head Auror before turning to the werewolf beside him. "And Mr. Greyback, I heard from Healer Smethwyck that you were in the building today. I'm Healer Merriweather, by the way. It's nice to formally meet you."

Fenrir acknowledges the woman with a grunt, earning a chastising look from his mate. He remains close to Harry as the witch unfurls a scroll containing the wizard's extensive medical history. Pulling out a quill from the folds of her robe, she quickly charms it with her wand to record her examination of the Head Auror.

"So, Harry why don't you lie back and we'll begin."

Taking the Mediwitch's suggestion, the young wizard shifts back on the padded examination table. He adjusts himself so that his body is centered and raises the hospital gown until his round belly is exposed. Harry then lies down and waits for the examination to begin as per usual. However, he smiles as Fenrir pulls up a seat beside him and once again starts to run his fingers through dark, unruly hair. The wizard can't decide if the simple contact is more soothing for him or for Fenrir, either way his eyes drift shut at the reassuring touch.

Approaching the pregnant auror, the witch takes out her wand and murmurs a quick spell. The tip starts to glow as she uses it to draw a series of glowing symbols over the growing baby in Harry's belly.

"What're you drawin'?"

At the question, both the wizard and witch look over to the werewolf. The healer smiles as she finishes her work before turning to explain the ancient runes to the suspicious man watching her every move.

"This is just a simple alchemic circle, Mr. Greyback. Due to the sensitive nature of Harry's pregnancy, I've been using alternative magic as oppose to the spells we normally use here in the obstetrics ward. Harry has mentioned that you are a bit wary when it comes to magic. Is this alright?"

"It's fine, as long as it doesn't hurt either of them," replies the werewolf, allowing the witch to continue her examination.

At the consideration, Fenrir simultaneously feels a wave of affection for his mate as well as a bit of guilt at the way he had been acting—a rare occurrence for the alpha wolf. Harry notices the expression, as brief as it is, and simply offers him a soft smile.

"It looks like everything is developing normally, as far as I can tell," comments Healer Merriweather, interrupting the silent conversation between the two men. "The womb that Harry's body has produced seems to be holding up well and properly nourishing the baby as well as providing the magic necessary to sustain itself."

"Wait, what exactly is goin' on inside the pup?"

Upon hearing the confusion in Fenrir's voice, the Mediwitch turns around with an understanding smile. She casts a spell on the adjacent wall. For a moment nothing happens, then the existing shadows begin to come to life and transform themselves into a visual for Healer Merriweather's explanation.

"Well, this is mostly conjecture, but from what I've been told from Harry as well as what I've deduced from my own observations, this is what I think caused this remarkable pregnancy. The night you two, _conceived_ your baby, a merging of magical energy occurred. It's quite miraculous actually, after all there are only a few documented cases of male pregnancies in Wizarding History. However, I believe that I've finally isolated all the factors involved in this particular case."

As she speaks a feature-less male figure(representing Harry) is formed by the shadows. In the figure's midsection, a white spark(representing Harry's magical core) appears.

"Now, all wizards and witches are born with a magical core," begins the woman, her tone indicated that this is only the start of her presentation. "The strength of each individual's magical core determines how powerful that wizard or witch will be. In Harry's case, and as you can see here, he has an extraordinarily strong core of magic."

Turning her attention back to the couple to make sure that they are following her, the Mediwitch then shifts her gaze to Fenrir.

"And in your case Mr. Greyback, you are an alpha werewolf. Werewolves, regardless of rank, are creatures of natural magic that are able to transform themselves. They are also one of the few magical creatures that create more of their kind by 'turning' other humans, similar to Vampirism. However, unlike other magical creatures, the aggressive genes associated with lycanthropy are spread through an exchange of bodily fluids and have been stimulated by the supernatural properties of a full moon. Now, when an exchange of bodily fluids that includes lycanthropy occurs without a full moon, the genes are still transferred but in a far-less aggressive state. These weaker genes are unable to spark the full genetic transformation of a human into a werewolf, as in the case of your acquaintance Bill Weasley. Do you both understand everything so far?"

At her pause, Healer Merriweather turns to see if the two men are following her explanation. Harry and Fenrir both seem to be a bit overwhelmed with this onslaught of information pouring out from the smiling healer. However, they both nod for her to continue with her informative presentation.

"Well, it seems that during your sexual intercourse, the introduction of Fenrir's extremely _potent_ sperm sparked a completely unique reaction within Harry's body."

At this point, the spark within the shadow figure grows bigger before changing color, from a glowing white to a soft blue.

"Now, normally, when werewolves have intercourse with wizards and muggles it doesn't have such profound effects outside traditional pregnancy and sexually-transmitted diseases. However Harry, due to your exposure to such powerful spells and curses at such a young age, the magical core within your body is very adaptable in addition to being incredibly strong. So, when confronted with such a pure strain of lycanthropy from an alpha werewolf, it reacted. It created life, even though you are not biologically capabale of carrying a child in a traditional fashion."

To end the presentation, a bubble of energy forms around the spark within the shadow figure's midsection. The shadows on the wall now represent the six-month pregnant Harry Potter.

"So, would my body have done the same thing if I had slept with someone besides Fenrir?" asks Harry, ignoring the annoyed grumble from the werewolf beside him as his eyes remain on shadow representation of himself.

"Probably not. It takes a very high level of magic for wizards to become pregnant, from both parents," the Mediwitch answers as the shadows return to their original forms. "In addition to that, the magical energies of both parents have to compliment each other. To be perfectly honest, Harry, I can't think of any other wizard that currently possesses your level of magic. However, as the Alpha werewolf, Fenrir has an immense level of natural magic that is most likely on par with you. It is also important to note that werewolves are famous for their virility and fertility, after all they are said to be the children of the moon goddess herself. Nine times out of ten, intercourse involving lycanthropes results in pregnancy for the female involved. And in this case, there was a certain level of raw desire there as well."

"Desire?"

"Well yes, Harry, you were receptive to Fenrir on some level. Otherwise, your magic wouldn't have created the life that you now carry. And in the same respect, Mr. Greyback was drawn to you. It could have been simple scent indicators, a base reaction to your mutual compatibility, or he simply just found you physically attractive. Either way, it was enough for the lupine instincts deeply-instilled within Fenrir to ensure that you conceived a baby from your union."

At this bit of news, Healer Merriweather watches as a myriad of expression settles on both Harry and Fenrir's faces. Neither the wizard nor the werewolf seem upset by the news, simply overwhelmed by the information and perhaps a bit surprised by it.

"I'm going to give you two a minute to talk things over. I'll be back in a few moments."

Excusing herself, the woman slips out of the room. The door closes behind her with a soft click.

"That was err-interesting," begins Harry, interrupting the silence that has settled.

"Yeah, you could say that, alright. You sure this witch knows what she's doin'?"

"Yes," replies Harry, with a chuckle. "She's worked with Healer Smethwyck and has a background in treating lycanthropy."

The comment earns a scoff from the lycan before him, however Harry continues.

"Apparently, she's even written quite a few books on werewolf anatomy and physiology. Hermione highly recommended her."

As Harry shifts a bit from his position on the table, piercing blue eyes watch as the wizard's hand idly rubs their growing child. Fenrir's thoughts start to drift back to the Mediwitch's explanation for their cub, and admittedly, the werewolf is surprised by the full power of lycanthropy. A heavy sigh leaves the man's throat, instantly catching the auror's attention.

"Fenrir? What is it?"

"There's somethin' I want to ask you, pup."

"Alright, go ahead," consents Harry, focusing all his attention on whatever the man is about to ask him.

"After everythin' she said, are you secretly hopin' that the cub comes out like your godson, Teddy Lupin, with no lycan traits at all?"

Harry's first reaction is disbelief at the man's question, especially since they had just fought over this the night before. However, after turning his head, he is shocked to see a expression on Fenrir's face that is not challenging. An expression that simply wants the truth from his mate, nothing more and nothing less.

"There is no particular way that I want our child to come out. I'm just hoping that the baby will be born healthy," begins Harry as he sits up with a bit of effort. "I don't care if he's born with puppy ears and a tail, I will love our child because he's ours. Are you going to be disappointed if the baby turns out to be a wizard?"

At the question, Fenrir immediately locks his gaze with Harry's. His expression is one of intense seriousness, yet it is not meant to be intimidating.

"Pup, what did I tell you that night I put my claim mark on you?"

Harry blushes as the full account of that night's activities come back to him. However, remembering the conversation before the passionate lovemaking, he recalls Fenrir's words.

"You said that you take care of what's yours."

"Well, are you and the cub _mine_?"

Looking directly into the soul-searing gaze of the man mere inches from him, Harry can't help but give into his mate's possessiveness.

"Yes, we are."

The immediate reply makes Fenrir grin.

"Then that means that both of you will always be taken care of," replies Fenrir matter-of-factly. "That doesn't change just because you're both wizards."

Moving himself closer to the edge of the examination table, Harry is a bit thrown off by his added weight as he attempts to slide off the tall furniture. Noticing the struggle, Fenrir picks the wizard up underneath his arms and gently lowers him to the floor. The maneuver is done with annoyingly little effort, but Harry still feels a bit self-conscious over his steady weight gain.

"I'm not getting too heavy, am I?"

"Pup, you're not fat," offers the werewolf after an appreciative gaze along Harry's form. "You look good with a bit more weight on you. And you look _damn_ good heavy with my cub."

To accentuate his point, Fenrir cups the wizard's bottom in a playful squeeze. The loose hospital gown serves as a barely-noticeable barrier as the man pulls the "Savior of the Wizarding World" closer to his massive frame. Harry isn't a lanky teenager anymore, but he can't help but feel like it pressed against the firm muscles that make up Fenrir Greyback's imposing form.

Harry catches the masculine scent that teases his nostrils as he is gently pressed against the werewolf. He buries his nose further into the man's shirt as the wizard enjoys the aromatic notes that make up his mate's scent. Due to his paranormalcy of his pregnancy, his sensitivity to smell has heightened a bit as a result of the werewolf DNA present within his body. Granted, most of the time it made Harry sick, but at times like these it allowed him to appreciate Fenrir in new ways. Like at the moment, he can smell the sweat on the man's skin paired with the fresh, yet wild, scent that Harry instantly recognizes as the Forbidden Forest.

"I missed you last night, Fen," Harry replies after a few moments. His voice a bit slurred as he is slowly intoxicated by the man's scent.

"Me too, pup."

Leaning down, Fenrir lowers his head to kiss his mate. The exchange starts out sweet, a mere caressing of lips, before their desire starts to make itself known. Pheromones emanate from the pregnant wizard, enticing the alpha wolf to freshen his claim on his mate. And just as their kiss starts to deepen into something else, Healer Merriweather returns, her eyes widening ever so slightly at the sight that greets her. Clearing her throat, the couple reluctantly stops their actions.

"Er-Sorry."

"No need to apologize, Mr. Potter," offers the witch with a knowing smile. "Pregnancy hormones make you desire your partner more. I suppose it's nature's way of keeping the father interested despite all the mood swings and whatnot."

Laughing a bit at her own joke, the Mediwitch regains her calm and returns to the business at hand.

"Anyway, while I was gone I ran a few tests and everything is progressing well. During your final trimester, I want you to take it easy and continue taking your supplement potions. I know you are Head Auror, but I highly recommend that you do not do anything too stressful or labor intensive, that also means using your magic. Try not to exhaust your magical core by using too complex spells. The simple concealment charms you've been using to keep your pregnancy private shouldn't have a negative effect, but if you start to feel a bit drained remove them and get some rest. You've informed the Minister of your condition, correct?"

"Yes, and Kingsley has me on strict desk duty. Ron Weasley is handling any of my more intensive duties until after I've delivered the baby."

"Excellent. If anything happens, anything at all, please let me know. As we've discussed before, this is an extremely high-risk pregnancy so we want to be extra careful."

"I'll make sure the pup takes it easy," assures Fenrir, earning a smile from the healer.

"Great. Then I hope to see both of you again in a month for your next appointment and we can start going over your delivery options then. Did either of you have any further questions for me?"

"Er, I have one," Harry pipes up, attracting the attention of the witch and the werewolf. "Are we having a boy or a girl?"

At the question, Healer Merriweather's smile grows.

"It looks likes the two of you are going to have a healthy baby boy," answers the witch, smiling at Harry and Fenrir's expressions. "Congratulations you two!"

With that cheerful goodbye, the Mediwitch leaves the wizard and werewolf to themselves. The second that the door closes, Harry is surprised to find himself surrounded by Fenrir's thick arms. A large smile appears on the auror's face as he relaxes into the embrace.

"I can't believe that we're going to have a little boy."

"Did you want a girl?" asks the werewolf, as he settles his chin on top of familiar dark hair.

"It didn't really matter to me, how about you?"

"Well, I was hopin' for a boy," Fenrir admits as he starts to sniff along the curve of Harry's throat. "I don't know about you, but I've got no clue how to raise a girl."

Harry laughs at the statement as he turns around in the man's arms. His bright green eyes look up at the taller man as he smiles.

"You do make a good point. She'd probably have us wrapped around her little finger before her first birthday."

"I wouldn't mind if our next cub is a girl, though. Atleast then, she'd have a big brother to look out for her."

At those words, Harry is rendered speechless. He never expected that Fenrir would not only want another cub, but had spent time thinking about it. A smile appears on the wizard's face at the thought of finally building his own family. Not wanting to expose how touched he is by the simple statement, Harry slides his hands up to rest on the man's broad shoulders.

"Let's focus on this baby first, and then we can start planning his siblings, Fenrir."

Unbeknownst to Harry, the man's words were testing the waters to see if the wizard even wanted to carry more of their children. The positive response makes a victorious grin appear on Fenrir's face.

"Well, there's no harm in practicin', is there?"

Before the wizard can ask what his mate means, Harry releases a small moan as their earlier kiss is suddenly restarted. A soft moan leaves the wizard's lips as he melts into the heated exchange. It isn't until hungry lips leave his mouth to focus some attention on the claiming mark decorating his throat, that Harry regains some coherency.

"F-fenrir, not here."

"Why not? You didn't seem to mind so much a few minutes ago."

"That was different," rationalizes the auror, as he forces himself to move out of Fenrir's reach. "Besides, I don't particularly want to have sex in an examination room that _anyone _could walk into."

"Then where would you like to go?"

Taking a moment to think, Harry smiles as an idea comes to him.

"I have a place in mind, but we have to stop at home first," states the pregnant wizard as he begins to change back into his clothing. "There are some supplies that we need."

"Kinky," comments Fenrir, his piercing blue gaze watching his mate shed the hospital gown and expose his slim body.

"It's nothing like that you dirty old man," Harry chastises over his shoulder as he slips a large t-shirt over himself—his cheeks reddening despite his words. "And quit staring like you want to eat me or something, it's unnerving."

"Oh, but I do want to eat you up, pup." teases the werewolf as he nears Harry, almost stalking the wizard as he finishes getting dressed. "Every delectable morsel."

* * *

After the couple has left Saint Mungo's and made a quick stop at their shared cottage outside of Hogsmeade, the two find themselves in the picturesque English countryside. There is no one around for miles as both men sit upon a worn blanket in an open meadow. The soft grasses sway back in forth in the slight breeze as the sun sits low in the sky. A warm orange glow is cast over Harry and Fenrir. At the moment, the werewolf is watching as Harry digs about in a small sack. Like Hermione's beaded handbag, it has been charmed to hold more than its size suggests.

"I know I put it in here," comments Harry as he looks further into it. His whole arm has now seemingly-disappeared inside the enchanted bag.

Watching this rather comic endeavor, a grin appears on the elder man's face.

"What is it that you're looking for, pup?"

"It's supposed to be a surprise, so I can't just tell you. I just hope that it didn't br—Oh, here it is!"

With a victorious smile, Harry pulls out a magically-chilled glass bottle that is filled with a clear liquid. Seeing the bottle, Fenrir's gaze becomes curious.

"What is it that you've got there, pup?"

"Well, I sort of asked Scarlett to do me a little favor. And because of our situation, I know that it's been a while since you've been able to go to the Taiga and see your pack. So, I thought you'd appreciate a little taste of home."

Realizing what the bottle contains, the werewolf grins at Harry as he brings over the bottle and a single glass. The wizard had remembered the vodka that Fenrir mentioned the night they went to see the unicorn herd in the Forbidden Forest and had apparently conviced Scarlett to bring him a bottle. The liquor is a handcrafted local recipe available only in the Russian Taiga. It isn't a fancy-brewed vodka, but its uniquely-bold taste paired with its smoothness easily make it Fenrir's favorite.

"Pup, you didn't have to do this."

"No, but I wanted to," replies Harry as he opens the bottle and begins to fill the glass for the werewolf. "I mean, I know you miss your pack—even though you never complain about it. And it can't be easy having to deal the Ministry of Magic on your back everyday as well as a pregnant mate with insane mood swings. And don't think I don't notice all the other little things you do."

At the reasoning, an appreciative smile appears on the well-defined features of Fenrir Grayback.

"You're carryin' our cub, the least I could do is make sure that you're both comfortable."

"Well, it's appreciated. So drink up."

At the wizard's insistence, the werewolf takes a sip of the handcrafted liquor. Unlike an ale, every sip of this vodka is meant to be thoroughly savored. The man lets the drink sit on his tongue for a few moments before swallowing the liquid, a satisfying burn following afterwards.

"This is good," murmurs Fenrir as he takes another sip.

"Good, I'm glad you're enjoying it," begins Harry as he closes the bottle. Putting it aside, he takes a deep breath. "So, er-last night, after our _disagreement_, I had a lot of time to think. I really don't want to keep fighting over the same issue, Fen. I want to offer you a compromise."

"Alright."

Watching the man enjoy the Russian vodka, Harry firms his voice.

"If you promise me that we can stay here in England, at least until after the baby is born," begins the auror, keeping his face neutral. "Then I promise that the baby and I will both return with you to Russia, to live with your pack, on a _trial_ basis."

For a moment, the alpha werewolf is in complete shock as he stares down at Harry. Intense blue eyes stare past trademark glasses and into the wizard's green ones, searching for the sincerity in his words. The werewolf is surprised to find it clearly reflected in Harry's expression and that this is not an empty gesture. Putting his glass down, Fenrir moves closer to the wizard. Harry is transfixed by the gaze trained on him, all he can do is watch as the well-muscled body moves closer and closer to him.

"You need to stop doin' all these nice things for me, pup," the werewolf replies, his voice now lowered to a husky growl. "Makes me want to do some _really_ nice things for you."

Gently nudging his mate so that he lies down on his back, Fenrir begins to crawl over his pregnant mate. His lips settle on the darkened flesh that indicate his claim on the wizard. With a rough lick to the sensitive spot, the man starts to bathe the curve of Harry's throat with teasing kisses and nips of his teeth.

"I said _try_ Fenrir," clarifies Harry as he moves his head away to bare more of his neck to the werewolf's attentions. "I do have a job here. If things don't work out, we'll _ah_-just have to come up with another compromise."

"Fine with me," growls out the werewolf as his attention switches to the other side of his mate's throat. "I think you'll like living with the pack. Lots of fresh air and open space. No wizards interferin' with our lives."

Enjoying the focused attention that he's receiving, Harry slides his hands up along the thick arms effectively caging him. The slim fingers take their time to explore every muscle, fascinated by their strength.

"But I'm a wizard, is your pack going to be okay with that?"

At the genuine concern in the young wizard's voice, Fenrir pulls back a bit.

"You are the mate of their alpha, they don't have a choice in the matter. Besides, not all of my pack members are full werewolves, Harry. Some of 'em are even muggles."

"Really?"

The look of wonder on the young auror's face makes Fenrir smirk as he leans back in.

"Can't help who you fall for, right?"

Harry smiles at the words and reaches his arms up to bring the man closer to him. In the warm grasses of the English countryside, the two males are finally able to reconnect without the threat of interruption. As the kiss continues, Harry's hands make their way down the man's strong chest just before slipping underneath the fabric of his shirt. When the auror's fingers start unbuckling the man's belt, Fenrir breaks the kiss.

"Stop that, pup, unless you want it right here."

"That's why we're out here, isn't it?" replies Harry as he restarts their kiss, a blush forming on his cheeks.

The wizard's response causes the werewolf to raise an eyebrow in question.

"I didn't think you were serious. Wouldn't take you for the type to like matin' outdoors, Potter."

"Well, I'm not really, but you do, right?"

Not arguing with that, Fenrir leans down to once again kiss Harry. The irresistibly-soft lips seem to mold perfectly against the werewolf's who lets out a small groan at the contact. As they continue kissing, Harry doesn't notice that large hands have made their way underneath his shirt. Wide palms glide over the supple skin as they move upward, moving the fabric with them. A gasp escapes Harry's lips as the thick fingers begin to tease and pull at his peaked nipples.

Enjoying the soft whimpers escaping the wizard's lips, Fenrir breaks their kiss to completely remove the shirt covering Harry's torso. The werewolf pulls back a bit to gaze at the bare form of his mate. Tearing his gaze away from the lust-darkened eyes of Harry Potter, he lingers on the swell of their child growing in the wizard's belly.

Fenrir places a hand on top of their growing child. Feeling the cub, their son, move underneath his palm, he shares a smile with Harry.

A grin quickly replaces his smile as Fenrir lowers his head. Placing soft kisses to the stretched skin covering Harry's navel and hips, his hands start to undo the drawstring holding up Harry's pants.

"W-what're you doing?"

The Head Auror's question remains unanswered as his pants are slowly slid off his narrow hips. Suddenly Harry is arching off the ground as he feels Fenrir's tongue lavish attention to his rapidly-filling member.

"Fenr—_ah_!" exclaims the wizard as he buries his hands into the grey-streaked hair of his mate, all the while his low moans drift through the open country air.

"That's it pup, I love hearin' you."

The werewolf's steady attentions are maddening, yet effectively work up the wizard to heights he hasn't ever come close to before with anyone else. His words degrade into senseless babbling as Fenrir alternates his technique from gentle licks to intense suckling. All the while, two of his fingers slip into his entrance. The man slowly builds up his pace until the digits are mercilessly stimulating the small gland to heighten the wizard's pleasure.

It isn't long before Harry's body starts to tense as his body prepares for release. His fingers tighten in Fenrir's hair, wordlessly signaling that he is about to snap. With a growl of acknowledgment, the werewolf only increases his attentions and speed Harry towards his end. The wizard's mouth falls open in a soundless scream as he prepares himself to be hit full force with pleasure. Harry is shocked that Fenrir makes no effort to move away and the sight is far more arousing than he cares to admit. So, closing his eyes to focus on the sensations coursing throug him, the wizard thrusts up instinctually into the warm heat of his mate's mouth.

As his body starts to come down from the high that Fenrir has worked it up to, Harry flops back to the blanket-covered ground completely drained of all energy. Uneven pants are the only thing the wizard is capable of producing as a lazy smile comes to his lips. After he tucks Harry away and back into his pants, Fenrir crawls back up his satisfied mate's body. He instigates a slow, lingering kiss, taking the time to lick every inch of his mate's delectable mouth. Harry returns each touch to his lips diligently and without much thought, oddly enjoying the taste of himself paired with Fenrir.

"W-wait," voices Harry, as his lips are freed and Fenrir starts licking along his claim mark. "Er, what about you? Do you want me to, um—"

"Later, I look forward to you doin' whatever you like to me, pup. But now, you need your rest."

Harry accepts the answer with a smirk, already thinking of ways to show his appreciation to the werewolf once his energy returns to him. Resting his head on the broad chest, the wizard curls his body so that he is cradled against Fenrir's imposing form. One of the man's arms sneaks around his waist and brings him closer—the gesture is comforting, as well as an effective way to stave off the chill of the late-summer evening. A smile appears on Harry's face as he feels the werewolf's nose bury itself into his unruly hair.

"You ready to go home, pup?"

At the question, the wizard simply closes his eyes.

"In a few minutes, Fenrir."

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**

* * *

**Well, I hope that you all enjoyed this chapter, it was fun coming up with an explanation behind Harry's pregnancy. One of the challenges of using MPREG in fanfiction, is that you have to make something impossible(even in a world full of magic) seem plausible without using a cliche approach like an all-too-convenient spell. Granted, I fudged a few things here and there for sake of plot, but I tried to add a little originality to it.**

**And yeah, Harry and Fenrir are having a little boy! I might draw a fanart of the family, however that probably won't be until after this story is wrapped up(sometime in August).**

**And by the looks of my story outline, we have about 2-3 more chapters to go before this tale reaches its end(give or take an epilogue). I hope you all stick with me, even with the late updates. Now, I can't guarantee that late updates won't happen again, as things are getting really busy for me, but I will try my best to get chapters out in a timely fashion.**

**BTW, if you like my writing style and are interested in reading some of my original work, I do have an illustrated novel titled "Beached"(website link : www-beachednovel-weebly-com *just put periods where the dashes are) You can read the first chapter there for free and it also links to the Amazon sell page. Thanks!**

**Later Days,**

**RENKA**


	8. Driven Apart

**Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix**

**Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations(especially in this chapter)**

**Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I've decided to base a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie ****_Fools Rush In _****starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've adjusted into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.**

**This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.**

**Sorry for the wait, I recently attended Otakon so a lot of my time was occupied preparing for that as well as planning Nijicon, an East Coast yaoi con! Visit www-nijicon-com for details(replace dashes with periods, please)**

**Anyway, here's chapter 8, and this is were the story starts to take a slightly different turn(I'm trying not to give too much away here!). There are only about two chapters left after this one.**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

**CHAPTER EIGHT - Driven Apart**

* * *

After carefully extricating himself from the arms of his sleeping mate that morning, Fenrir once again finds himself in the Forbidden Forest. The ominous trees are almost comforting in their familiarity. Over the course of about seven months of intense work, nearly all of the eerie woodland has been charted. The aurors' enchanted scroll is now almost completely filled in with the various terrain and territories of the Forbidden Forest. Staring down at the parchment, Fenrir's intense blue eyes narrow on the one, remaining blank area of the map—the cavern system that has fresh evidence of being inhabited by a forest troll.

Since that discovery, Fenrir has kept his group away from the large lumbering creature. Trolls aren't particularly hard to take down, but trolls aren't exactly pleasant either—it is just easier to avoid them whenever possible. In an open environment, the advantages of speed, numbers, and a wide attack range tend to overrule the hulking size and strength of a troll. However, this situation is different. If the troll attacks the werewolves and the aurors inside the cave, the tight confines limit the effectiveness of any attack, either physical or magical.

However despite this rather annoying obstacle, the map of the Forbidden Forest has to be completed—Ministry of Magic's orders.

So with a heavy sigh, Fenrir concedes that they need to finish their exploration of the labyrinth-like cave system. The quicker this all gets done, the quicker he and his new family can return to his pack.

"Alright, we're heading back to the cave system," begins the alpha wolf, his deep voice instantly gaining the attention of the werewolves and aurors around him. "Keep your guard up. The last time we were here, Scarlett and I scented fresh forest troll."

Nodding their ascent, the werewolves dutifully split into two groups. Scarlett and Derrick take Abigail and her fellow wizards as Mason leads the other team of beta wolves and aurors. As supplies are gathered and organized, Fenrir goes over to one of the betas of the other exploration team, a man a few years older than the alpha.

"Espen," he calls, getting the man's attention. "Make sure the aurors in your group are well protected."

"Got it, Fenrir," the elder wolf replies as a smile stretches his worn face. "Wouldn't want to upset your little mate, hmm?"

Fenrir smirks to himself at the comment, as he claps a hand on the other wolf's shoulder.

"Somethin' like that. If anythin' comes up, just make sure they get out first, no exceptions. We wolves can take care of ourselves, but I won't have any of us bein' blamed for an auror gettin' hurt."

With that last order, the groups split up and make their way into the caves once again. Both werewolves and wizards alike are trained for any scent or sound that seems even the slightest bit off. Hours pass by as the team of aurors meticulously map their way through the uncharted areas of the cavern. And despite all them being on edge for a possible troll sighting, nothing more than a few bats and snakes cross their path. It is rather anti-climatic, but it finally allows everyone to relax just a bit.

"Remain sharp," growls out Fenrir, sensing the ease in alertness. "Just because we don't see a troll yet, don't mean it ain't here."

Exploring the winding pathways that sprawl underneath the entire Forbidden Forest is not an easy or quick job. Satisfied with their headway, Fenrir decides that their progress for the day is sufficient. The alpha's group has been moving, with only a break for lunch, for eight hours. And after finally taking a good overall look at the cave system, it is within reason to assume that it will take no more than a week to complete the extensive map.

At this conclusion, a sense of relief washes over Fenrir Greyback. The notorious werewolf is more than ready to be released from his contract with the Ministry of magic.

For the moment, all seems to be well until a series of low thuds are heard. At first they are soft, but grow with time; the cavern seeming to shake with the impact. It doesn't take long for everyone to realize what the source of the ominous sound is—a forest troll. The three werewolves are instantly on alert as they listen to see what direction the troll will take. The tension then heightens as Fenrir, Derrick, and Scarlett realize with varying degrees of dread that the creature is only coming closer.

"Is that the troll?" asks Abigail, her voice low. "Is it coming clo—"

"Everyone stop talking," interrupts Fenrir.

Giving his betas only a look, Fenrir silently gestures to Scarlett and Derrick to remain behind him and guard the aurors.

A few moments pass, and the troll makes it's way to their path. Upon spotting the aurors and three werewolves, the large, cumbersome creature stops in it's tracks. A cry of outrage leaves the troll's mouth as he notices the intruders in his current home.

With apparently no thought, the troll charges towards them, it's mouth snarling in rage. Fenrir quickly takes action and goes to meet the creature head on.

Lashing out with one of it's large, tree trunk arms, the troll attempts to grab the alpha werewolf. Fenrir crouches low and avoids it, then rolls underneath the troll. Confused by the evasive action, the troll turns around to swing again, only to miss again as Fenrir dodges the heavy fist.

As their alpha effectively engages the large beast, Scarlett and Derrick immediately herd the aurors out of harms way.

"Let's go, move it!" shouts Derrick, leading the way to a narrow passageway just big enough for them all to squeeze through. "Apparrate to the mouth of the cave!"

"But what about Mr. Greyback?" asks Abigail, looking over her shoulder as Fenrir manages to body slam the troll into the cave wall.

"He'll be fine," assures Scarlett as she takes the girl's arm. "I've seen him take on bigger and smarter creatures by himself. He can handle a forest troll."

Fenrir continues to effectively dodge the attacks of the troll, distracting him so that the group can make it past the rampaging creature. The werewolf doesn't particularly want to kill it, so he focuses on disarming it. Sidestepping another one of its large fists, Fenrir uses the troll's large weight against him and attacks it's stubby legs. The clumsy creature loses its balance and falls heavily to the ground. A bit confused, but not unconscious, it gets up again. Fenrir pants as his mind works to plan out his next move, this time hoping to permanently disable the creature. However the werewolf is startled from his thoughts as a blast of magic suddenly hits the side of the troll's head. Turning to the source, piercing blue eyes widen to see Abigail standing on the sidelines, her wand out.

"Mr. Greyback, are you alright?"

Her question remains unanswered as the troll gets back up. The creature's dark gaze settles on the new, weaker arrival.

It takes but a moment fro Fenrir to realize what the creature is going to do. Within a few short steps, the troll grabs the girl with surprising speed. Abigail manages to launch another stun spell before she is captured in the troll's grip, but it has little effect. The gargantuan palm around Abigail squeezes her thin body tightly. A pained groan gurgles out of her mouth as intense pressure is applied to her ribs, threatening to break bones. Thankfully, the pressure is short-lived as the troll lets out his own painful cry. Distracted by his new prey, the troll has mistakenly forgotten all about the deadly werewolf. Thick arms lock themselves around the troll's neck, crushing the windpipe of the lumbering creature. And with a sickened crunch, Fenrir forces the creatures head to the side, killing it instantly. The dead troll falls to the ground, releasing Abigail from its hand. For a few moments, only deep haggard breaths escape Fenrir and Abigail's lips and echo in the cave.

"What the fuck were you tryin to do?!" growls out the werewolf as he stands to his feet.

"I-I was just trying to help," winces out the witch.

With a grumble, the werewolf makes his way over to the injured girl. The man gently picks up Abigail into his arms, trying his best not to jostle the injured woman as he stands up. Apparrating to the mouth of the cave, Fenrir instantly attracts everyone's attention.

"What happened?" Derrick asks as he and Scarlett run up to their alpha, the other aurors trailing behind them.

"The troll's dead, the girl got hurt, though."

At hearing this, the other aurors come closer to the injured auror. With a wand out, one of the witches attempts to heal her friend. In the light of the afternoon sun, the bruises that litter Abigail's face are now visible. A whimper escapes her throat as the light touch of magic aggravates the intense pain radiating from the witch's torso.

"These wounds are serious. I'm afraid I can't do anymore than numb the pain a bit."

Considering the other auror's words for a moment, Fenrir firms his grip on the injured witch in his arms.

"Derrick, wait here for Espen's group. Let them now what happened and makes sure that the aurors return safely to Hogsmeade. I'll meet you there when I can."

"Fenrir, what're you going to do?" asks Scarlett, concern in her eyes as she spots the grim expression on her alpha's face.

"Well first, I'm takin' her to Saint Mungo's to see a healer. We all know that I'm better at breaking bones than mending 'em. After that, I'll probably have to deal with the Ministry for awhile."

The werewolf says nothing else as he apparates himself and Abigail to the wizard hospital. But after their alpha leaves, Scarlett and Derrick share a mutual look of concern.

In the creature injury wing of Saint Mungo's, Healer Hippocrates Smethwyck is more than surprised to see Fenrir Greyback approaching him. The two aren't exactly on good terms, seeing as the medi-wizard had treated many of the infamous werewolf's victims. However, despite that, the healer is a professional. A fact that is proven when he ignores Fenrir to immediately focus on the injured witch in his arms.

"What happened?"

"Forest Troll attack," replies the werewolf, as he gently deposits Abigail onto an empty stretcher. "I'm pretty sure a few of her ribs are broken."

Nodding, the healer immediately approaches the witch whimpering in pain. Smethwyck then goes to work to verify the werewolf's rough diagnosis.

"Yes, there are definitely a few broken ribs," states the healer, using a hand to gently feel the damage. "It appears that there is some intense bruising as well. Thankfully, it doesn't appear that any of her ribs have punctured any organs."

At the touches, Abigail whimpers again as he face tightens in pain.

"What is you name, Miss?"

"A-abigail."

"Alright Abigail. You're going to be fine," assures Healer Smethwyck. "A few broken bones are easy to fix around here."

"T-thank you."

Looking over his shoulder, the Healer in charge notices a few apprentice healers walking by.

"You three, help me take this witch to the exam room. We have some broken ribs to mend and internal bruising to alleviate."

Fenrir watches silently as the flurry of healers take Abigail away to be properly healed. The man hoping that the well-meaning witch will be alright.

"Fenrir, there you are! How's Abigail?"

Turning around, the werewolf finds himself face to face with the worried expression of his mate. Harry is dressed in his official Ministry robes, the flowing material hiding their child well even without the use of cloaking charms. Seeing the large forest green eyes staring up expectantly at him, Fenrir's expression softens ever so slightly, the man mindful of where they are.

"Accordin' to Smethwyck, she'll be fine. He's looking over her now."

Noticing the concerned look on the man's face. Harry places a hand on Fenrir's broad shoulder. The wizard apparently not caring who could be watching them at the moment.

"Don't blame yourself Fenrir. I know that you did everything you could to protect her."

"How are you so sure of that?" asks the man with a raised eyebrow.

"Well, I know that you are a good alpha. And a good alpha takes care of those he's responsible for, including my aurors."

"Not good enough, apparently," argues the werewolf.

"They all knew what dangers they were facing, and each one of the aurors with you are well-trained to handle those dangers," Harry offers as a counter argument. "And more importantly, they all think for themselves, Abigail especially. That's why I chose them to accompany a group of werewolves led by the notorious Fenrir Greyback."

"Wait, you chose the aurors?"

The incredulous look on the werewolf's face causes a chuckle to leave Harry's lips.

"Well, Shacklebolt just asked me to choose the aurors I thought best suited to the task of mapping out the Forbidden Forest. The werewolf part I discovered once I read the full proposal," replies the Head Auror nonchalantly. "But still, I chose Abigail, because she's smart and brave. The other aurors told me how she went back on her own to help you. Granted, it might not have been the wisest thing Abigail has ever done, but I'm still very grateful to her."

"Why?"

With a secretive smile, Harry locks eyes with Fenrir.

"She protected my mate when I wasn't there to do it myself."

At the surprised look on Fenrir's face, Harry's hand squeezes the man's shoulder reassuringly.

"Abigail is a tough witch, she'll be alright."

At the shared smile, Harry leads the way into the ward. Both men to wait for the Healers to finish their work on the injured witch.

But unfortunately for Fenrir, the Minister of Magic isn't quite as understanding as Harry.

"Fenrir, that girl could have died!" exclaims Kingsley, his deep voice echoing throughout his office a few hours later. "An auror getting seriously injured under the watch of Fenrir Greyback will not be taken well. When the Daily Prophet gets a hold of this story, they will have a field day."

"I'm well aware of that, Shacklebolt," replies the werewolf as he stands before the Kingsley, his arms crossed over his chest.

At the nonchalant response, the Minister settles further into his chair with a sigh. His hand goes up to massage his temple, no doubt a futile attempt to stave off an upcoming headache.

"The ministry needs that map completed as quickly as possible," starts the dark-skinned wizard as he reviews an official-looking parchment on his desk. "Due to recent events, they now want the Forbidden Forest charted before the students return to Hogwarts in September. That only gives you another week or so."

"Shouldn't be a problem."

"However, they now also want you to investigate a series of severe wolf attacks in Alaska that are being reported by Muggle newspapers. The evidence points to it being a rouge werewolf."

"Alaska?!" shouts Fenrir, the werewolf turning over a nearby chair. "This job with the Forbidden Forest was supposed to be my last! You wizards just can't just go add things onto it, we had a fuckin' deal!"

"You messed up, Fenrir," points out Kingsley, the man impressively impassive with an angry werewolf tearing up his office. "You should be glad that this is all the Ministry wants you to do to make amends. Besides, it should be an easy job for you to handle one of your own."

"Whether or not I can handle some damn rouge werewolf isn't the problem, Shacklebolt."

"Then what is the problem?"

At the question, Fenrir thinks back to the compromise he agreed to with Harry. He promised his pregnant mate that they would stay in England until after the baby is born. He had given Harry his word and has no intention of breaking it, even for the Ministry of Magic.

"The cub is due in November."

Minister Shacklebolt's face visibly softens at the statement.

"Ah, I see. Well, there is no reason why Harry cannot go with you. I can provide both of you with another home while you handle this assignment in Alaska. I'll send you the details later. Until then, give your better half my best."

Getting up to leave the man's office, Fenrir's thoughts are heavy. He doesn't want to break his promise to Harry, yet at the same time he can't let his pack down. After all, he's not the only werewolf looking forward to being free of the bureaucratic wizards. Yet, the hard truth of the matter is that as long as the Ministry had Fenrir Greyback under their control, they controlled every werewolf that followed him.

* * *

In the days that pass after the forest troll attack, Fenrir focuses all his energy into his work. The arduous task of completing the map of Forbidden Forest is a welcome distraction from the looming decision that he has to make. This sudden dedication from Fenrir has caught the attention of his beta wolves, as well as the aurors, yet no one is willing to risk questioning the irate alpha.

However, no one has noticed the change in Fenrir more than the werewolf's mate, Harry James Potter.

One morning, as he watching the large man get ready to leave the cottage for another day, the green-eyed auror approaches Fenrir with a determined look on his face.

"Fenrir, is everything alright?"

"Yeah, pup," rumbles out Fenrir. At the odd look on the wizard's face, he looks deeper at Harry. "Is everything alright with you and the cub?"

"Yes. Healer Merriweather said everything's fine with the baby," Harry assures him, his hand subconsciously rubbing over their growing baby. "At my last appointment, we decided that we'd continue to use alchemy to deliver the baby instead of a spell or an operation. We even scheduled an appointment to do the procedure in November. I had kind of hoped that were going to meet me at Saint Mungo's."

"Some things came up in the Forest. I couldn't leave, Harry."

As the man speaks, his attention is focused on tying the strings of his boots.

"Oh, alright. I understand. Um, Hermione and I are planning to go shopping for some things for the baby in London. Do you think that you could join us, later?"

"I dunno, pup. Things are getting really busy out in the forest. The cavern system is almost finished."

"I see."

Finished putting his boots on, the werewolf stands up to his full height.  
His thick fingers tilt Harry's face upward. Placing a quick kiss to the wizard's lips he turns to put on his coat.

"I don't know when I'll be back, so don't wait up for me, pup. You need your rest."

"Alright. Have a good d—"

Harry's words die out as the werewolf walks out of the door. As the click echoes throughout the house, a sigh leaves the wizard's lips.  
He places a hand on his enlarged stomach as he feels the baby move inside him. Even after carrying for the last six months or so, it is still an odd feeling for Harry. A soft smile graces the auror's face as the baby appears to finally settle down.

"You're worried about your father, too, aren't you, little guy?" asks the pregnant wizard, conversing with his unborn son. After a moment, he lets out a sigh. "Let's make tea while we wait for Aunt Hermione, hmm?"

Turning around, Harry makes his way towards the kitchen. The wizard secretly proud of himself that his stride hasn't become a full-blown waddle yet. Reaching the kitchen, he fills the tea kettle and places it on the stove. Literally watching water boil, the wizard is surprised when Hermione suddenly enters the room.

"Good morning, Harry!" greets the witch with a smile. "Sorry I'm late, but Ron insisted that I make pancakes before I left. He's fascinated by how muggles make them without magic."

"Hey Hermione," greets Harry as he hands one of his closest friends a cup of tea.

"Harry, are you alright?"

"I'm fine, just a bit tired. Hopefully the tea will help."

Hermione doesn't quite believe her friend, but decides to let the subject drop for now.

"Alright, if you say so. Are you ready to go then?"

"Yes, let me just get my jacket."

It takes only a touch to the portkey Hermione has created for the pair to find themselves walking through downtown London. As the two wizards enter one of the small boutiques, the couple is warmly greeted by a elderly woman running the store, but are then left to shop at their leisure. Then again, this is probablt due to the glamour charm as well as a protecting ward protecting Harry's hidden baby. To an outsider, it simply looks like Harry and Hermione are a young, expecting couple shopping for their first baby.

"Now why on Earth would a baby need a purse?" inquires Hermione, holding up a ridiculously-small replica of a couture purse. "This is just excessive, don't you think?"

"Err, sure."

"Harry, what's wrong?" asks Hermione, with a concerned tone.

The witch has noticed that Harry has been down all morning, however it has only intensified since entering the baby clothing store. Placing her hand on his shoulder, Hermione steers Harry to a less-populated area of the shop.

"It's nothing, really," offers the Head Auror as he finds himself in an aisle full of stuffed animals of all species and colors.

"Harry, it's quite obvious that it is not nothing. Now out with it."

Noticing the stern look on the woman's face, Harry knows that the clever witch will see through any lie immediately. He takes a deep breath to clear his thoughts as his fingers absently start stroking a nearby teddy bear.

"Well, it's just that Fenrir has been acting so different, lately. Something is bothering him but he won't tell me."

"Maybe he's just preoccupied with his work," suggests Hermione. "That auror, Abigail was seriously hurt, wasn't she? I'm sure he's just on edge about that."

"I wish that's all it is. He's being distant," admits Harry. "Fenrir is many things, but never distant. If anything, he's usually all over me."

At first Hermione is confused by her friend's joking words. But when she looks closer at Harry, her eyes soften at the hidden sadness in his eyes.

"Harry, if how Fenrir is acting bothers you, you should talk to him about it. He is your mate, isn't he? And after all, he might not even be aware that he's acting this way. "

"That's just it. I can't talk to him. He only comes home to sleep and eat. I barely see him long enough to have a full conversation. Apparently, he doesn't even have enough time to be intimate with me."

At the blush forming on her friend's face, Hermione instantly gets the hidden meaning of his words.

"Are you saying that you two aren't having sex anymore?" inquires the witch, lowering her voice to a whisper.

"Yeah. It's been awhile since he's touched me. Before, it was unusual if we only did it once a day. Now, I'm lucky if I get a parting kiss."

"Harry, I'm sure it's nothing. I mean, I've seen the way he looks at you. To be honest, I've apparated in on you two enough times to know that there is a definite attraction between the two of you."

"But what if he's tired of me? I mean, look at me. I'm as big as a house and I'm ridiculously hormonal. I literally cried over spilt milk the other day. I mean, if he's lost interest, it would explain a lot."

"Harry, stop that train of thought this instant. You and I both know that isn't the case. It's obviously something else."

Taken aback by Hermione's insistence, Harry's eyes widen in surprise. The wizard can't deny that hearing those words from his friend's mouth does wonders to ease his doubts.

"I really hope you're right, Hermione."

"When will you and Ronald learn?" begins the witch with a grin. "I am always right. Now let's pick out some practical clothes for the baby."

With a small smile, Harry follows Hermione back to the clothing section of the store.

* * *

Exactly one week later, the main hall of the Ministry of Magic is enchanted with beautiful decorations. All in attendance are celebrating the success of the teams of werewolves and aurors that have completely charted the dangerous terrain of the Forbidden Forest. On the large wall, the intricate map is displayed for all to see. The ancient territorial lines of various magical creatures as well as the many natural wonders of the Forbidden Forest are on display on the large enchanted parchment. Kingsley and a few other high-ranking ministers stand before the map as reporter wizards take photos and interview them.

From his position far from the attention of the wizards, Fenrir watches the spectacle. His blue eyes are indifferent, the werewolf not truly caring if the Ministry wants to take credit for the work he and his betas have done. All he cares about is the reward that the completion of this task ensures.

Lost in his thoughts, the man still notices the appearance of his mate. The familiar scent of the pregnant wizard teases him, making his nostrils flare in an effort to inhale more of the intoxicating aroma.

"Hello, pup."

At the greeting, a bright smile blossoms across Harry's face.

"I saw the map today, it looks great Fenrir. I can't believe that you all did all that work so quickly, and with months to spare! It's brilliant. I'm so proud of you."

Isolated in their alcove of the dark marble hallway, Harry reaches up to hug the man with a wide smile on his face. The werewolf is surprised by the gesture, but makes no move to avoid it. It has been far too long since he's had his mate in hims arms.

Caught up in the embrace, Fenrir's breath hitches as he picks up on the hints of lust emanating from the pregnant wizard. The scent only serving to further remind the man of how long he's been withholding from enjoying all of the aspects of being mated to Harry Potter. Now that the map of the Forbidden Forest is finally completed, the werewolf would prefer to celebrate the accomplishment with his mate rather than at the Ministry of Magic. Hell, if Fenrir had his way, he'd be pushing his mate up against the closest wall to show everyone in the room exactly who the Savior of the Wizarding World belongs to. And the way that Harry keeps shyly sneaking glances up at him isn't helping matters.

"Enough of that pup. It's too close to the full moon to tease me like that," growls out Fenrir as he reluctantly removes Harry's arms from around his neck. "Can't promise I'll be gentle with ya."

At the husky tone, Harry has to bite his lip to stop the moan from his lips—it has been far too long since his mate has given him more than a lingering kiss. Schooling his features to a more appropriate expression, Harry looks up at the man.

"Are you going to be alright with the full moon and all?"

At the genuine concern, Fenrir looks at his mate. The blush tainting the wizard's cheeks paired with the fresh wave of lust pouring off Harry, makes the werewolf emit a low growl.

"I'll be fine. Just stop teasing me when I can't do anything about it," grumbles out the werewolf. His voice lacking any real bite to it.

"So," begins Harry, his hand trailing up the man's arm. "What are you going to do when you can do something about it?"

At the challenge, whatever is left of Fenrir's restraint breaks.

Harry's eyes widen in surprise as he is suddenly pushed against the wall. The only thing separating the mated couple from the crowd of the party is a heavy curtain. The wizard's lips are suddenly assaulted by Fenrir's mouth, a whimper leaving his throat at the passionate kiss that engulfs him. Just as suddenly as it started, the kiss is broken off as the werewolf suddenly spins Harry around. With his hands pressed against the cool marble, the wizard groans as he feels a rough lick to his mating mark. Possessive hands travel down the side of his body, rubbing slowing over their growing child, before the large palms rest on the slight curve of Harry's hips. A gasp leaves the wizard's lips as he feels a familiar bulge pressing into his ass.

"The second we leave here, we're headed straight for our bed," begins Fenrir, as his hips mimic what he really wants to do. "Can't say that we'll stay there though. We both know how much you like it when we go at it on the floor, against a wall, in the kitch—"

"Ah Fenrir," moans out Harry, interrupting the words pouring from Fenrir's mouth.

A grin appears on the werewolf's face as he notices that the wizard is trying to keep his voice down.

"However, you and I have a party to attend. So, unfortunately, this is gonna have to wait."

Sending a glare over his shoulder at the cockiness in Fenrir's voice, Harry takes a second to get his bearings.

"Alright, let's get this over with."

The werewolf smirks at the impatience in his mate's voice before attempting to help straighten out the Head Auror's robes. Satisfied that they both look presentable, the wizard and the werewolf make their way out of their private alcove and towards the party. As they walk, a sudden, sharp pain in his side makes Harry wince. Instantly, a thick arm winds its way around him.

"Pup?"

"I'm alright. It's just a cramp."

"Do you need to sit down?"

"No, walking a bit seems to help, actually. Water would be nice though."

"Water it is, then."

Leaning against one of the tall table through out the hall, Harry watches Fenrir disappear into the crowd in search of the open bar. It isn't long until the wizard is approached by the Minister of Magic, a warm smile on his features.

"Oh, Hello Harry."

"Hello Kingsley," Harry replies, easing his discomfort by rubbing his side in slow circles.

"Marvelous party, isn't it? The Ministry wanted to go all out, after all this is the first time that anyone's attempted to map the Forbidden Forest. Let alone, actually do it."

"I'm sure that they are even more pleased that it was done early."

"Well, Fenrir had a bit of incentive," agrees Shacklebolt. "Speaking of which, I hope that you both are all packed."

"Packed?"

"Yes, this time next week you'll be in Alaska, I imagine. Compared to the snow of Hogsmeade, I'm sure you both will adjust just fine. And don't worry, your paid leave will kick in about a month so that you two can get things 'settled'. Although personally, I think Ron can't wait for you to return all your duties as Head Auror. I found the poor boy sleeping at his desk the other day."

At the chuckle that leaves Kingsley mouth at the end of his words, Harry smiles politely, somehow managing to hide his growing anger. It is at that exact moment that Fenrir returns and hands Harry a goblet of water. With a glare, the wizard takes it and takes a deep sip.

"What did I miss?"

"Well Fenrir, Kinglsey and I were just talking about our trip to Alaska next week. The one that you failed to mention."

The werewolf tenses up the second he detects the low simmering rage in his mate's voice.

"Well, excuse me. I'll leave you two to your discussion."

With that, the Minister of Magic leaves Fenrir to deal with an irate Head Auror. The minister ignoring the pointed glare coming from the alpha werewolf.

"Look Harry I-"

"I don't want to hear it. You promised me that we could stay here in England until the baby is born. Why didn't you just tell Kingsley to wait?"

"It ain't that simple, pup."

"Why not? You don't let anyone else tell you what to do. What's the difference if it's the Minister of Magic?" challenges Harry in a hushed whisper.

Taking a deep breath, Harry calms himself down.

"Fenrir, you know everything about my life but tell me nothing about yours. If we're going to be together you have to share things with me so that we can work it out together. We're having a baby, for Merlin's sake. You don't hide things from me."

Unbeknownst to the wizard, he is subtly challenging the Alpha's authority with his rightful anger. Normally, this wouldn't be such a problem, but so close to a full moon, it isn't a good idea.

So, when Fenrir suddenly invades his personal space, Harry is shocked when his mate's blue eyes narrow into a deadly glare.

"I'm Alpha, you'll do as I say," begins the werewolf, his voice just above a threatening growl. "You'll know whatever I decide is right for you to know. You don't question me."

At Fenrir's statement, that leaves absolutely no room for argument, Harry does the exact opposite of what anyone else would, or could, do in his position. Emerald green eyes harden into their own glare and stare right back at the imposing alpha wolf.

"I'm not some pack member, I'm your mate," hisses out Harry, between clenched teeth. "You don't seem to get that and you're the werewolf, how's that for irony?"

Everything within the werewolf is clamoring for him to assert his dominance over the other male, yet simultaneously his instincts are urging him to calm his pregnant mate. Clenching his hands into tight fists, Fenrir is able to hold back his rage—barely.

"Harry, I'm not going to slack on my responsibilities as Alpha just because I knocked you up! I have to think about more than just our family!"

A look of hurt flashes across the wizard's face, before it is replaced with renewed anger. Green eyes narrow and focus on Fenrir, completely ignoring any one else in the room. However, by this point in their argument, all the wizards and witches around them are completely silent as they listen in on the lover's spat. Varying looks of shock are displayed as everyone learns that Harry Potter and Fenrir Greyback are in a relationship and expecting a baby. However, the wizard and the werewolf are far to engrossed in their discussion to notice or care.

"I'm not even sure you know what a real family is Fenrir. The baby and I are just two more people you have to take care of in your mind. You don't let us in. I'm supposed to be your mate but you don't let me take care of you. You don't let me help you. You just expect me to go along with whatever you say. I'm not that type of person and you of all people should know that!"

Taking a deep breath, Harry glares up at Fenrir. His face looks conflicted, caught between anger and something else that the werewolf can't quite identify.

"Look I told you before, I can raise this baby on my own if I need to. The two of us will be just fine, _without_ you."

Sensing Harry's distress, Fenrir moves closer to soothe his mate. The wolf instantly regretting everything that has passed through his lips in the last few minutes.

"Harry, you don't mea—"

"I mean every word of it, Fenrir!" snaps the wizard moving out of the werewolf's reach. "Don't follow me!"

With that, Harry Potter storms out through the crowd(which parts for the Head Auror) and heads towards the Floo Network. Frozen in shock, the werewolf doesn't even notice that their spat has gotten the attention of all the people around them, including a few reporter-wizards for the Daily Prophet.

But even as cameras flash around him, all Fenrir can focus on is the growing ache caused by the rejection of his pregnant mate.

* * *

**TO BE CONTINUED . . .**

* * *

Sorry to end it here! However, the next chapter won't take nearly as long to post, I promise!

Thanks for reading!

RENKA


	9. The Aftermath

**Wizards and Werewolves Don't Mix**

**Summary: When Fenrir Greyback spends a night with Harry Potter, the last thing he's expecting is to start a relationship with the young wizard. But when Harry turns up pregnant, what is a werewolf to do? MPREG**

**Disclaimer: The world and characters of Harry Potter are the property of J.K. Rowling**

**Warnings: MPREG, Adult content/language, sexual situations(especially in this chapter)**

**Taking a page out of some of my fellow fanfic writer's books, I've decided to base a fanfic off a fun little-known rom-com. This particular story is based off the movie ****_Fools Rush In _****starring Matthew Perry and Salma Hayek. It's a cute story that I've adjusted into a Fenrir/Harry fanfic as a little writing exercise. It's been a litte while since I read the books/watched the movies so there may be some oversights.**

**This is my very first Fenrir Greyback/Harry Potter fanfic, so please let me know what you think.**

**I don't want to take up too much of your time here with this note, however I will warn you that there are some "angsty" moments in this chapter. All I ask is that you trust me with the direction of the story. Also, I did a very quick edit of this, but I'll go over it again when I have more time. I just really didn't want to delay the chapter any more than I have.**

**ENJOY!**

* * *

**CHAPTER NINE - The Aftermath**

* * *

_THE DAILY PROPHET - SPECIAL EDITION_

_Harry Potter, Head Auror of the Ministry of Magic and the Saviour of the Wizarding World, is PREGNANT!_

_It has been confirmed that Harry James Potter, "The Boy Who Lived", is carrying the child of Fenrir Greyback! The story broke last night at a Ministry function celebrating the completion of the first comprehensive map of the Forbidden Forest—an effort achieved by Greyback and his fellow werewolves along with a hand-selected team of aurors. It is speculated that through this endeavor is how Mr. Potter and Greyback first came into contact._

_Witnesses at the banquet claim that Harry Potter's pregnancy came to light during a public "lover's spat" between Mr. Potter and Greyback. The couple seemed to be completely oblivious to their audience as they carried on. Not only did they divulge that they are expecting a child, the two men are in fact mated(an equivalent to marriage among werewolves). The fight was brief, ending once Mr. Potter apparated(which is only to be done sparingly when one is pregnant) to an undisclosed location. Since that disagreement, neither Mr. Potter nor Greyback have been spotted in public._

_Healers at Saint Mungo's* have established that while male pregnancies are already extremely rare phenomena within the Wizarding community, it is even a more extraordinary development between a wizard and a magical creature._

_(*At this point in time, it is unsure as to whether or not Mr. Potter has sought treatment at the Wizarding Hospital during the stages of his pregnancy.)_

_And due to the Head Auror's use of a rather high-level glamour charm, it is near impossible to tell how far along his pregnancy has progressed, never mind when the baby is due._

_As to be expected, the Wizarding public is divided on this issue. Devout supporters of Mr. Potter eagerly await to celebrate the birth of the child while others are anxious of what this will mean for the young Head Auror. Rumors of a forced resignation are already being whispered among the Ministry, yet Minister Kingsley Shacklebolt has claimed that there is no truth to these allegations in a statement released this morning:_

_"Harry Potter is an essential asset to the Ministry of Magic. His work as Head Auror has not only made for a more efficient Auror Department, but a far more productive one. It is due to his extensive knowledge of Defense Against the Dark Arts and his diligence that nearly all of the Dark Lord's supporters are locked away in Azkaban and off the streets. Harry's personal choices are just that—personal and they have no bearing on his continued career at the Ministry of Magic as Head Auror. I stand by my choice to appoint Harry to his position now more than ever."_

_While many share Minister Shacklebolt's opinion of Harry Potter, public opinion of Fenrir Greyback isn't as favorable. There are even some parties that are convinced that the secrecy surrounding Harry Potter's pregnancy suggests that it was not a consensual union between the two men. And even more extreme parties of the Ministry of Magic, such as the Magical Children Protection Agency(M.C.P.A.)—whose individual members don't wish to be named at this time, believe that the child should be taken away from the influence of Fenrir Greyback immediately:_

_"The unborn child of this monster, is still an innocent member of Wizarding society. In the best interest of the child, it should be removed from the care of such an irresponsible wizard and infamously vicious werewolf. Fenrir Greyback has a well-recorded and undeniable history of biting the children from powerful wizarding families, who knows what atrocities he will do to his own child? Not to mention, that it is still debatable as to whether or not Harry Potter is of sound mind if he is in fact Greyback's willing mate and carrier of this criminal's offspring. Pending a intensive review by the M.C.P.A., it is yet to be determined if either parent is fit to raise this child into a proper witch or wizard."_

_(*At the time of this article no formal complaint has been made nor has any official investigation been launched pertaining to this particular case.)_

_Considering the fact that this case revolves around the relationship between a wizard and magical creature, i.e. a werewolf, the Head of the Department of Magical Creatures(and close friend of Harry Potter), Hermione Granger-Weasley was also contacted for comment. Mrs. Granger-Weasley submitted this statement:_

_"The pregnancy of Harry Potter, like any pregnancy, is a private matter between the expectant parents. Harry only kept it a secret, employing the use of glamour charms, to protect his unborn child from public scrutiny. There is nothing shameful about the relationship between Harry and Fenrir. They love their child and they did what they thought is necessary to protect their baby. I know that their child will be in perfectly competent hands and no matter what outcome, they will continue to have the full support of myself and this department behind them."_

_The pregnancy of Harry Potter is on the lips of every wizard and witch for one reason or another. And despite any one wizard's or witch's opinion, the Potter-Greyback baby will be one of the most talked about children since "The Boy Who Lived" himself first graced our pages._

_[Both Harry Potter and Fenrir Greyback were unreachable for comment at the time this article was written.]_

* * *

"They want to take my baby away?!" asks Harry with a horrified expression on his face. The wizard unable to focus on any other part of the article. "I never even thought that was a possibility."

As the auror trails off at that disturbing thought, he sits in the spacious office of the Minister of Magic himself, Kingsley Shacklebolt. The pregnant wizard is resting on the couch lining one side of the office with the recent edition of the Daily Prophet clutched in his hands. Surrounding him are Ron and Hermione, both of which are clearly concerned for their best friend. Then again, Harry has paled considerably since he started reading the newspaper article emblazoned upon the front page of the Wizarding newspaper.

"Harry, mate, I'm sure it's not as bad all that," soothes Ron, trying to keep the Head Auror calm. "Besides, we won't let anyone take your son away from you. Honest."

"Ron's absolutely right. Anyone with any bit of sense knows that you will be an excellent parent."

Despite Ron and Hermione's reassurances, Harry ignores them as he focuses on another part of the article—the section that focuses on the conception of their child. Re-reading it, a look of disgust settles into the wizard's forest-green eyes.

"After all that he's done in the Forbidden Forest, they're making Fenrir out to be some monster that took advantage of me. That isn't what happened at all! Fenrir can be a stubborn ass sometimes, but he would never do something like that. He isn't some evil beast that needs to be hunted down with, with . . . torches and pitchforks or something!"

The wizard can't help the tremor of fear that wracks his body as he thinks about what could possibly happen to Fenrir from the pure conjecture masquerading as journalism. After all, it is only in recent years that the man has attempted to make amends for the crimes he committed in his past. There are still plenty in the wizarding community that wouldn't bat an eyelash if Fenrir was locked away in Askaban for the rest of his days.

Contemplating what could happen to his budding family, Harry is unprepared for the multitude of emotions that bombards his thoughts. He may be currently pissed off at the man, but Harry still has strong feelings for the father of his baby. And as much as he'd like to blame it completely on his over-sensitized hormones, the wizard knows his panic is from his own insecurities. After all, what if the public backlash from their exposed relationship only highlights to Fenrir why the two of them shouldn't be together? What if the werewolf decides that being with Harry just isn't worth it?

"Harry, you're working yourself up over nothing. This is just an article, nothing more. The Daily Prophet is just trying to sell newspapers with sensationalism," offers Hermione, resting a comforting hand on her friend's trembling shoulders. "You need to calm down, it's not good to stress yourself out in your condition."

"But there's truth to this, Hermione!" argues the Head Auror, pointing at the article. "We all know that some of the ministers would do it, the ones that still distrust Fenrir for what he did during the war. They'd take away our baby the second he's born and then lock Fenrir up in Azkaban! I know it!"

As Harry starts going off, his hands protectively cover his now-noticeable baby bump. Since he and Fenrir outed themselves as an expecting couple, the wizard has stopped using a glamour charm to hide their growing child. Watching her friend retreat inward, Hermione turns to Minister Kingsley with a pleading look on her face.

"Minister, please assure Harry that the Ministry of Magic cannot take his baby away. The last thing he needs is to work himself into a fit."

At the request, Kingsley looks away from Hermione's gaze with an unreadable look on his dark features.

"Minster, they can't take Harry's baby away, can they?" presses the witch, a bit unnerved by the silence coming from the man before them.

Unbeknownst to the other occupants in his office, the promise that Shacklebolt made to Fenrir a few months ago in the exact same room comes right to the forefront of the elder man's mind. The Minster of Magic is more than aware that if the wizards they represent demand it, the Ministry could separate Harry and Fenrir. However, he would make certain that Harry would remain with his child no matter what. The man has already looked up any course of action the Ministry could possibly take to forcibly remove the baby from Harry's custody as a precaution. And thankfully, the new laws protecting magical creatures and their families(some of which were drafted by Hermione herself) are already working in the young wizard's favor.

"Not without good reason and only after they've launched a thorough, Ministry-approved investigation," admits Kingsley finally, before turning to the panicking auror. "Harry, I promise you that your baby will not be taken from you. However, I can't say that there aren't some people that won't do their damnedest to try."

"Thank you Kingsley. But I don't care what happens, no one's taking my baby! That's fina—AAHH!"

A sharp pain in Harry's side makes him stop mid-sentence. Curling into himself, the wizard starts taking deep breaths as his hand starts to rub small circles over his side where the pain seems to be radiating from. Immediately everyone in the room is on their feet as they make their way over to the pregnant auror.

"Harry, what's wrong?!" asks Ron, his widened eyes instantly sweeping over his friend's form.

"I-it's nothing. I've had these pains before. It'll—ah!—pass," winces out Harry between the painful cramps wracking his abdomen.

"This has happened before?! Did you tell the Healers at Saint Mungo's about this?"

Avoiding the concerned yet chastising gaze of the Minister of Magic, Harry stretches back on the couch. His eyes scrunch shut as another pain seems to wrack through his body.

"N-no, it's just cram—OW!"

"That's it, we're going to Saint Mungo's right now," declares the Hermione, before turning to her husband. "Ron, you help Harry, I'll get his things together."

"Got it, 'Mione."

* * *

The denizens of Hogmeade collectively shiver as a piercing howl rips through the still night air. All the residents know that the howl belongs to their neighboring werewolf, so they keep their distance far from the outlying forests. Yet the resounding loneliness that taints the ominous call, has all of Hogsmeade wondering about the cause of the wolf's pain.

Ending his howling, the alpha werewolf continues plodding through the fresh fallen snow of the forest. The canine, tired from his hunt, listlessly makes his way to the familiar cottage that stands alone—a stark contrast to the woods around it. Entering through the open door, the wolf whines at the missing scent of his pregnant mate.

Harry would usually be waiting up for the werewolf after his monthly transformations, his soothing presence alone would lull the canine into a watchful sleep. Then again, the ear scratches that his wizard gave him didn't hurt either.

But since their "lover's tiff" at the Ministry of Magic, Fenrir has not seen or heard anything from Harry. Not that he would ever admit it, but the werewolf finds himself quickly longing for the sight of dark unruly hair and deep, forest-green eyes.

Still transformed under the influence of the full moon, the wolf side of Fenrir can't understand why his mate, heavy with their unborn cub, isn't under his watch. The werewolf sniffs about the empty cottage, searching for any trail that will lead to Harry. Following his nose, the large canine finds a red and gold scarf, the wool fabric seeming to have trapped the scent of the wizard. And although the cottage still has lingering traces of the wizard, Fenrir is unable to find any further trail of his mate's scent to track. The alpha growls in frustration at this conclusion before flopping onto the bed in defeat. The wolf's only consolation, is to bury his nose into Harry's Gryffindor house scarf as he tries to get some sleep.

When Fenrir awakens the next morning, after a rough night's sleep, the man is a bit surprised to find himself sleeping with Harry's scarf. The wizard's trademark accessory makes a smirk cross his features as he remembers the last time the wizard had worn it—long story short, it had led to a rather intense session of mind-blowing sex. However the fond memory fades once he remembers that his mate is not there. Guilt once again settles on his mind as the man intrinsically knows that the only reason that Harry isn't there in their bed is his own doing. Grumbling to himself, Fenrir rolls over and attempts to return to sleep.

The man's rest is short-lived as he is awoken by the sound of a soft, incessant coo. Turning over, sharp blue eyes land on the form of a large barn owl sitting on the end of the bed. The bird no doubt flew in from one of the open windows of the cottage. Large gold eyes stare expectantly at the imposing form of Fenrir Greyback.

"Get the fuck out of here," growls out the werewolf, raking a hand through his grey-streaked hair.

Ignoring the man's temperament, the snow white bird simply nudges over the letter that it has been sent to deliver. The owl than hoots again to regain the man's attention. Eyeing the parchment envelope with his name hastily scribbled onto it, Fenrir's gaze narrows into a glare.

"If this is a Howler, you're gonna be my breakfast, bird."

The owl simply cocks its head in curiosity at the werewolf. Snatching up the letter, the man rips it open. Thankfully, it isn't another Howler, but the man is still blown away by the few sentences on the folded paper. In a quick scribble, the letter simply reads:

_Greyback,_

_Harry's in the hospital. You better get your furry ass over here the second you get this letter._

_- Ron Weasley._

_P.S. Don't eat the owl, it's a loaner from Saint Mungo's._

In a flash, Fenrir gets out of the bed, dislodging the barn owl who flies off the way it came. Throwing on his worn leather jacket and a pair of boots the werewolf apparates immediately to Saint Mungo's. After some quick directions from a thoroughly-intimidated apprentice Healer, the imposing man finds Hermione and Ron outside of a private hospital room talking to Healer Merriweather. The normally cheerful medi-witch has a serious expression on her face as she speaks to the young couple before her.

". . . All in all, Mr. Potter should be okay. He'll just have to take it easy for a while."

"What happened to Harry?"

Looking to the man, the two women are surprised by Fenrir's sudden appearance. Ron simply regards him, looking the man square in the eye.

"Harry was having some pains so we brought him here to make sure that everything's okay," explains the red-head. "He's resting right now, so you'll have to wait to see him."

"Fuck that. My mate is hurt. Do you really want to stand in my way, Weasley?"

Fenrir Greyback is intimidating on a normal basis, so when he is properly agitated it is quite an imposing sight. Every muscle in the werewolf's body tenses as his expression hardens. The man's eyes intensify into an piercing stare that strips people bare, it is downright unnerving. However, Ron manages to hold his ground, matching the glare of Fenrir Greyback with the one he inherited from Molly Weasley.

"If I have to. Harry's my best mate, you're not the only one that cares about him or the baby, you know. I sent that owl because, for a reason beyond my understanding, he needs you to be here with him. Don't make me regret it."

For a moment, complete silence passes between the two men. Then out of nowhere, the werewolf's eyebrow arches as a new level of respect for Ronald Weasley forms.

"I get it. Thanks for taking care of the pup for me," offers Fenrir, thoroughly surprising the trio outside Harry's room.

However, the alpha werewolf ignores their shocked reactions as he enters the private hospital room. Once the door opens, Fenrir finds Harry lying on his side. A sense of relief passes through him as his eyes finally rest on his young mate. Unfortunately, it is quickly replaced with concern as his gaze sweeps over the slim figure for any injury. The wizard appears to be almost cocooned in a massive amount of pillows to cushion his body as he rests in the hospital bed. Lying there, his back to the door and clothed in the thin hospital gown, Harry looks so small and almost fragile. The werewolf freezes as the faint scent of tears reaches his nose. With a deep breath, Fenrir steels himself for whatever it is that has afflicted his pregnant wizard.

"Hey Pup."

At the familiar rumble of his alpha's voice, Harry can't hold back the relieved smile that crosses his face. The wizard was sure that their public argument would have kept the werewolf far away from him. Although, remembering that he is still upset with Fenrir, Harry schools his features. His hands lift up his trademark glasses in order to quickly wipe away the lingering tears. Once he's satisfied that he is somewhat composed, the auror twists his neck to look over his shoulder.

"Fenrir?" whispers Harry, taking in the sight of the rugged man that he chose to be his mate. "How did you know I was here?"

The second that the green eyes(slightly red from crying) settle on the werewolf, Fenrir has to forcibly stop himself from taking the wizard into his arms. If anyone else had put that expression on his mate's face, the alpha wolf is sure that he would have ripped the bastard to shreds. He settles for simply crossing the room so that he can speak to the auror without such a distance between them.

"Your friend sent an owl," mutters Fenrir, crossing his arms over his broad chest. "I came as soon as I got it."

"Oh, Hermione, right?"

"No, the other one."

"Ron told you I was here?" asks Harry incredulously.

"Apparently, he thought I should be here."

A moment of tense silence passes between the two of them. It is interrupted when Fenrir takes a step closer.

"What happened, pup?"

At the question, Harry doesn't turn his body to face the man. However his shoulders tense up.

"Nothing happened, I'm perfectly fine," whispers out the auror.

"And the cub? Is he alright?"

Harry takes a deep breath, but says nothing as he bites his lower lip. Sensing that something is wrong, Fenrir's gaze stays on the wizard.

"Harry—"

"There is no more cub!," blurts out the wizard, his voice raw from crying.

At the words, Fenrir stops in his tracks. Frozen by shock, the werewolf can barely get his thoughts in order.

"What do you mea—"

"I-It was a high-risk pregnancy already," explains the wizard as his eyes avoid Fenrir's stare. Harry pulls the sheets tighter around himself as he speaks. "Healer Merriweather said that it was a miracle that I managed to carry him this far. It's no one's fault, really."

The scent of fresh tears fuels the man to take yet another step closer. Fenrir is unsure how to react to this revelation. After all, the man never excelled at anything having to do with emotions, never mind comforting someone else. His inner wolf wants to howl in sadness at the loss of their unborn cub yet he is aching to curl around his distraught mate. But considering the fragile state of their relationship at the moment, Fenrir isn't sure if his efforts would even be welcomed.

"Since we've been apart, I've been thinking. Mostly about us," begins Harry, instantly gaining the werewolf's attention. "The baby was the only good reason that we were together. If I hadn't gotten pregnant, I wouldn't have went to see you in Hogsmeade and we woudn't have become mates. I mean, it was spectacular, but we were fooling ourselves. A wizard and a werewolf is difficult enough, but the two of us, Harry Potter and Fenrir Greyback? It wasn't the brightest idea to start a relationship, on either of our parts."

The werewolf gets anxious the more he listens to the words pouring out of the wizard's mouth.

"I don't believe that," starts Fenrir. "And you can say whatever shite you like, but I know you don't believe that either."

For a second, Harry seems to lose his resolve as piercing blue eyes stare into his own viridian ones. Looking away, the wizard's gaze shifts to his hands.

"We aren't meant to be together, that's all," the auror argues weakly, his hands gripping the thin hospital sheets in a vice grip. "Just go back to your pack, Fenrir."

"I'm not goin' anywhere. You are my mate, Harry! That means I take care of you."

The conviction in Fenrir's voice has Harry's determination wavering. Part of the wizard wants to let the werewolf take care of him and forget everything that's happened in the last few days. However, another(stronger) part of him knows that as tempting as that option is, it won't solve anything between them.

"Just get out, Fenrir."

The tone of the wizard's voice isn't one that the werewolf is used to from the Gryffindor. It is exhausted, like Harry, "The Boy Who Lived" and the "Saviour of the Wizarding World", has given up on something. Then and there, Fenrir decides instantly that he doesn't like it.

"No, I ain't leavin'."

"Get out or I'll make you get out, Fenrir!" shouts the wizard, finally turning his head to once again lock gazes with the werewolf. "I mean it!"

At that outburst, the two men lock eyes, equally stubborn and at an impasse—although Harry looks as if he's about to cry any minute now. Whatever is it that is holding the wizard together is threatening to break apart. Seeing that look, and knowing that he is the cause of it, makes something long-ignored in the werewolf cave in.

"You want me to leave that badly, eh?"

" . . . Please?"

Taking a deep breath, Fenrir releases Harry from his intense gaze.

"Alright, I'll leave. But don't go thinkin' that you've gotten rid of me completely, pup. I'll be back."

"I know," replies Harry, his deep forest eyes softening— a silent thank you to Fenrir for granting his request.

Leaving Harry to his rest, the man steps out of the private hospital suite. Ron and Hermione instantly focus on him, curious of what transpired between the two mates. The red-head is the first to reach the still-shocked Fenrir.

"Greyback, what happened?"

"Nothin', Harry needs his rest is all," answers the werewolf. "He's takin' everythin' pretty well, considerin'."

Thinking over the conversation, Fenrir feels a fresh surge of guilt hit him.

"Shite! I should've protected him and our cub better!" grumbles out the man as he runs a hand through his grey-streaked hair. "I fuckin' deserve whatever the pup wants to dish out at me! I let him and our cub down."

"I'm sure that Harry didn't mean whatever he said," provides Hermione, thrown off by the man's self-depreciating words. " He's just really delicate right now. Healer Merriweather said that he has to take it easy. Not to mention his hormones are still going to be out of sorts for a while."

"Yeah, I got that," grumbles out Fenrir as he turns to walk away.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

At the redhaired wizard's question, Fenrir stops in his tracks.

"Harry asked me to leave, so I'm goin'. I'm not gonna be responsible for upsettin' him further. I'll be back though."

As the man leaves the wing, Ron and Hermione stare after him, confused by the werewolf's actions. Then again, Fenrir is confused by his own actions as well. For once, the alpha wolf doesn't know what to do to correct the situation. There was no enemy he could tear to shreds and no way to bring back their son—the child that Fenrir had never planned on having, yet he had been looking forward to holding in his arms for the past seven months. The notorious werewolf is heartbroken over his lost cub, yet what eats away at him the most is that he wasn't there when his mate needed him most.

All in all, a fine mate Fenrir Greyback was turning out to be.

Later that day, Fenrir returns to the halls of the wizarding hospital with a semblance of a plan. The large man had spent most of that afternoon clearing out the cottage of anything associated with their lost baby. Fenrir didn't want anything upsetting the young wizard when he took him home from Saint Mungo's. His only concern is to make up for all that he had put Harry through.

Healer Merriweather happens to be passing by the room and sees Fenrir approaching. With a confused expression to her face, she walks over to the werewolf.

"Oh, Mr. Greyback, is there something wrong?"

"No, just here to take the pup home."

A look of surprise, crosses over the woman's face. Her permanent smile falters a bit as she subconsciously takes a step back from the imposing werewolf.

"But Mr. Potter left this afternoon after his test results came back. I processed the paperwork myself."

* * *

Luna Lovegood has always been what many wizards would call a peculiar witch. In fact, it is a badge that the blonde woman wore proudly, in her own irreverent way. In the years since the Second Great Wizarding War, Luna has become a world-renown wizarding naturalist. Her research and pursuit of the Crumple-Horned Snorkack has led her to Ireland, the land of leprechauns, banshees, and other magical creatures of Celtic legend.

The witch rents a quaint cottage that lies in the valley of sprawling emerald green hillsides. It is quite picturesque, especially in the early morning when the low fog casts a mystical aura on the land. She is friendly with the local muggle townsfolk, yet keeps to herself with few visitors. The only regular contact that Luna has with the magical world is through the occasional owl that flies in through her kitchen window.

Which, is why the pale witch is surprised to find a rather depressed looking Harry Potter on her front porch. The Head Auror simply fiddles with the ends of his robes, not noticing that he has been discovered.

"Harry?! What are you doing here? Is everything alright?"

Looking up at his friend, Harry reveals his tear-filled eyes.

"Luna, I'm sorry. I should've sent an owl, first. But I just had to leave. I had to get away."

Concern lights the witch's face as she hears the broken quality of the auror's voice. Even in the final years of the war, Harry never sounded as depressed as he did now.

"It's alright. You're always more than welcome to visit me Harry. We're friends. What's wrong?"

"I just needed to get as far away from The Daily Prophet, from the Ministry, and even from Fenrir as I could get."

"Ah, your mate," confirms Luna, recalling the contents of the many letters that Harry has sent her over the past few months. "What did he do?"

"Nothing like the Prophet has accused him of, that's for sure," Harry insists as he runs a hand through his dark, unruly hair. "It's just that, I need to time to properly think things over. And I can't think properly when I'm with him."

"What do you need to think about?"

"Our future I guess. Fenrir is everything to me, yet the only reason we're even together is because I got pregnant. It's not like it makes sense for the two of us to be a couple. As much as it hurts to admit, I think he's just holding on to me because he thinks he should, out of his own sense of pride or some weird werewolf obligation. He sees me as someone he has to take care of, not like a true mate. Whatever that means."

"Oh Harry, that can't be true. I mean, in your letters you've never sounded happier."

"That's just it Luna. I was happy because I was living in a dream world. A world where I could just be Harry, live my life and not care what other people thought. But I don't get to have that. Ever since I met Fenrir in that pub, I've been living out a fantasy. I guess I'm just waking up from it. And as much as neither of us want to care, our identities matter. It matters that I'm a famous wizard and it matters that Fenrir is an infamous werewolf. The article in The Daily Prophet just proves it."

Luna is a bit confused by Harry's ramblings, yet she can recognize a cry for help when she hears one. Placing a hand on the wizard's shoulder she offers him a comforting smile.

"Come on inside Harry. It's getting cold out here. I have some lovely potato soup that I can heat up for you. Everything looks better after you've eaten, although I suppose it depends on what you eat. I mean if it was something disgusting than I'm sure that it would only make your mood worse."

At Luna's nonsensical, yet familair rambling, Harry can't help but smile.

"Alright. Err, can I have a hand?"

Smiling down at her friend, Luna beams.

"Of course."

With the offered hand, Harry pulls himself up. The bulge of his pregnant stomach makes it a bit harder than it used to be to stand up. But the wizard manages, with help from Luna, and follows the witch into her small house.

* * *

It has been three weeks since Fenrir last saw Harry. The werewolf, finished his contract with the Ministry of Magic, has returned to his pack to regroup. Then, almost immediately, he left to start his assignment in Alaska leaving Derrick and Scarlett to look after things. Despite his initial rage at the additional task, it is actually a blessing in disguise for the alpha wolf. At least he no longer has to torture himself with living in the cottage he shared with his green-eyed wizard(the place they planned to raise their son) or be around the growing cubs of his own pack.

Covering up his emotions, Fenrir focuses on tracking down the rogue werewolf terrorizing the local muggles. The alpha wolf is accompanied only by his brother, Mason(the other alpha wolf is the only one willing to accompany a pissed of Fenrir).

In the Alaskan wilderness, the two werewolves move through the dense forests in weighted silence. The stark white of the snow only punctuated by the dark trunks of barren trees. A cold breeze blows about, distorting the scent of the rogue wolf that the two brothers are currently tracking. After a few hours of this, Mason is the first to break the heavy silence.

"So, is this how you're going to be for the foreseeable future, Fenrir?"

"Shut. The. Fuck. Up. Mason."

"Jesus Christ, who would've thought the great Fenrir Greyback would be reduced to a fuckin' shell of himself by some wizard?" comments the blonde as he shakes his head. "It's pathetic."

Mason is suddenly tackled by Fenrir, the larger man slamming his body to the frozen ground with a spray of powdery snow. After some rolling around, Fenrir manages to pin his brother and straddles the leaner man. The irritated wolf growls low in his throat as he glares down at the other alpha.

"You don't know shite about me or my mate!"

Mason scoffs at that, and shoots his brother a look of disgust.

"I know that instead of mopin' around like some kicked pup you should go find your precious wizard. If you miss him so much, go reclaim him."

At the words, Fenrir's anger eases slightly. His blind rage morphs into guilt and he loosens his grip on his brother.

"He made is perfectly clear that he doesn't want to see me. The pup left and I don't blame him. It's my fault we lost our cub. Least I can do is respect his space."

For an immeasurable stretch of time, both men are silent as they think of the lost cub. No werewolf, no matter how strong, handled the passing of unborn cubs well.

"You lost your cub, I'm sorry about that," replies Mason, his voice matching Fenrir's with sadness as he thinks about the lost baby. "I was looking forward to meeting my nephew. Now, I'm not saying that the two of you don't need time to grieve. But, the wizard is still your mate, he still has _your_ mark. Find him and make it right."

An incredulous look appears on Fenrir's face as he looks down at his brother.

"I thought you didn't like wizards."

"I don't, for the most part. But that mate of yours, he grew on me. Besides, with him around, you were somewhat tolerable. Now, will you get offa me! We still got a rouge werewolf to find and you aren't exactly a lightweight."

"Yeah, yeah," agrees the older wolf as he gets off, much to Mason's relief. "Let's finish this, I have a pack to get back to."

"And then a mate to locate, right?"

". . . Yeah."

With that, the two wolves restart their trek through the snow covered forests. Now that the tension between them has eased up a bit, Fenrir and Mason travel through the woods as a cohesive unit. In fact, it takes little time before they are hot on the trail of the rouge wolf they have been hunting for most of the day.

* * *

Harry yawns widely from his seat at the round wooden table in Luna's kitchen. The Irish sun shines through an open window as the sounds of chirping birds waft through. The witch herself is busy preparing a potion on the stove as the wizard watches. Rubbing a hand over his swollen stomach, a sudden soft kick to his hand, takes Harry by surprise.

"You're active today, little guy."

"The baby's moving again?" Luna asks with an excited smile. Dropping what she's doing, her hand touches her friend's belly. "Wow, he's really kicking."

"Yes, he's always active in the morning and late at night. During full moons, he's completely restless. That he gets from his father."

Noticing Harry's slight hesitation to say Fenrir's name, Luna knows that it is time to start the conversation that the two friends have been avoiding for the last few weeks.

"Harry, you still haven't told me why you left him."

"I don't really want to talk about it, Luna."

"Harry, as much as I enjoy having you here, you can't hide out here forever. Ron and Hermione are worried about you and so is the rest of the wizarding world. And I'm sure that Fenrir is worried too."

At the mention of his mate, Harry can't stave off the crushing guilt that hits him. After all, he had just left without telling the man where he went. Not to mention the unforgivable lie that he had told the man to get some space. As possessive as Fenrir is, Harry knows that not knowing where his mate is must be driving the werewolf mad.

"I know, and I'm not planning to stay here forever. I still have a job at the Ministry to do and I have some things to get in order."

"Harry, you are avoiding the question."

At the silence that greets her, the witch hands Harry a glass of the potion she has been brewing. It is a pale green color yet has a scent that reminds the wizard of cinnamon.

"Here, the nutrient potion is ready. Drink up."

"Thanks, Luna. You didn't have to make this for me."

"I made it for my nephew in there. Just because you refuse to take proper care of yourself doesn't mean that he has to suffer. Your son needs his father, and so do you."

Harry takes a deep sigh as he thinks over Luna's words. The witch has always had a peculiar intelligence that has always managed to catch Harry by complete surprise. Taking a sip of the potion, surprised by the slight spiciness of it, the wizard turns to face the concerned, yet expectant eyes of Luna Lovegood.

"I left Fenrir, before he left me, alright? I mean, it was only a matter of time really, and I don't think that I could handle being abandoned—not with a baby on the way, at least. Besides, I was holding him back. Fenrir isn't the type of man that should be tied down with a wizard for a mate and a baby on the way. For Merlin's sake, he's practically the Lord of all werewolves! He should be with his pack. That's where his heart is anyway."

"Are you sure of that?" asks Luna, tilting her head innocently.

"To be honest, I'm not sure of anything with Fenrir."

"But Harry, you love him."

At the statement, Harry's hand absently starts to rub his belly. Feeling his and Fenrir's child move in response, shifting within him, makes him smile. The wizard has always wanted to have the family that he never had as a child, to be surrounded by people he loved and be loved in return. And though he never thought that he'd create it with the werewolf Fenrir Greyback, he has never been happier. The man may be brash, intimidating, and a bit rough around the edges, however Fenrir has always been honest with Harry. He has always treated the wizard like a person, with flaws and desires, not like a symbol. Around the werewolf, he can just be Harry, he doesn't have to have all the answers and can depend on someone else for a change. The Head Auror found himself relaxing around Fenrir in a way he only felt comfortable doing around Ron and Hermione.

Harry has known for quite some time that he has become completely infatuated with Fenrir, in a way he never felt about Cho Chang or Ginny Weasley. And while it scared him a bit at first, to feel something so deeply for someone, he has accepted his feelings. The wizard wants to be with the werewolf, but he knows that there are serious issues between the two of them. And while Harry is open to working through those issues, he isn't so sure that his other half is.

"Love isn't always enough to keep people together, Luna," Harry replies after a while. "We're just too different, that's all."

"Harry, of course love is enough to keep two people together. That is the point, isn't it?"

At those words, Harry looks down at his swollen belly that houses the embodiment of his feelings for the werewolf. Watching his gaze shift, Luna softens her expression.

"Fenrir Greyback is the father of your baby, that is never going to change. Eventually, you are going to have to face him. Granted, Fenrir is rather intimidating, but you're a Gryffindor, aren't you? You don't run from anything, right? Especially not from the man that you love. At the very least, for your baby, you have to find out if there is still anything between you two."

For a moment, Harry is completely taken aback by the insight offered by the odd witch.

"Thank you, Luna."

"For what?" the blonde woman asks, honestly confused.

"For reminding me why you're such a good friend."

At that, the two friends share a smile.

"Alright, so what would you like for breakfast, Harry? It's about time I feed you."

"I'm up for anything that has chocolate and meat," the pregnant wizard replies, earning a wide eyed stare from Luna. "It's all this baby wants to eat, apparently."

For a second, Harry is afraid that the witch will find his pregnancy craving odd, even by her standards. However, he is surprised when Luna simply pulls out a box of chocolate frogs and then reaches into the fridge for some wrapped meat to cook.

"I've always wanted to try chocolate-covered meat, but no one else has wanted to eat it!" exclaims the blonde witch as she reaches for a cooking pan. "Now do you prefer bacon or sausage?"

* * *

TO BE CONTINUED . . .

* * *

I hoped you enjoyed this installment! By the way, the next chapter will be the last one.

Later days!


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